


Party of One

by microbrewLu



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drinking, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fetish, Gen, I lied, M/M, Sex Work, Smoking, Suicidal Thoughts, Tags make this seem angstier than it really is, it's pretty angsty, p5 royal spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:01:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29460963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/microbrewLu/pseuds/microbrewLu
Summary: Joker's college job leads him to an interesting career as an escort. His friends are worried, but he won't let them in on what's driving him to drink. When he was still in high school, the Phantom Thieves did their job, and the metaverse disappeared. So, what's this hotel he keeps finding outside his apartment complex?__________________________________Nabbing a couple more packs of cigarettes from the vending machine near his apartment stilled the shakiness settling in his fingers. He walked down the road to head home, but he paused at the alley right before his street. Jazzy music wafted down the dirty alley. An odd magenta glow filled the area. His hands shook again. Jittery fingers fumbled for a new smoke. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.Inhale.He kicked a rock out of his way. The music drew his attention and pulled his stare towards the domineering flush of magenta. Turning on his heel, he trudged down the alley with his hands stuffed in his pockets.Exhale.May as well check it out, he thought.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 36
Kudos: 87





	1. Warm Up

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter was written with the exclusive help of hot coffee gone cold and Post Malone. This is mainly to knock the rust off my atrophied writing skills. No beta either, so we're roughing it, folks. As a side note, is there some meta preference of using Akira over Ren for protag's name? I named my protag King Burglar, and I honestly wrote that a few times while writing this. Please, help.

“Do you mind if I smoke?”

She seemed surprised by the question, he noticed. She stopped choking her handbag as she answered. “No, please go ahead.” Her voice cracked a bit.

Thanking her softly, he pulled a lighter from his side table and flicked it open. Inhale. Exhale. “What brought you here tonight, Miss Ito? Is there something special you had in mind?” he asked gently. He caught her eyes for the first time and enjoyed the visible shiver it brought her. 

The silence between them lengthened. 

Her aged face broke away from his gaze. Squaring her shoulders she answered, “I chose not to get married to focus on my career. My job was so thrilling, that I never really cared about having a family. I just want to know what it might be like. Being together with someone, that is. Someone who finds me attractive.” Scrunching her lips brought forth the wrinkles around her mouth. Her dark eyes latched on his again, proud and strong. “That is what I want.” 

His eyes drifted across her. Her skirt suit fit her thin frame well, and her handbag looked expensive. Stress etched deep lines around her mouth and between her eyebrows. Age stole the glow from her skin. She had a homely face with minimal makeup topped with a simple, elegant hair style. But her eyes…

Inhale.

Exhale. 

Uncrossing his legs, he stood slowly. Striding through the smoke, he crouched by her legs. Eyeing the tension in her jaw, he chose not to touch her yet. “Do you find me attractive, Miss Ito?” he asked, bringing those eyes back to his. At her shy nod, he smiled. “Do you think I find you attractive?” he gently followed up. As expected, she shook her head negatively. Smirking, he placed a hand on the chair, very close to her thigh. “Ah, you’re gonna be surprised! I think you’re very attractive. It’s your eyes,” he chuckled. Leaning closer, never breaking away from her surprise, he purred, “Your eyes are so expressive. So strong. They’re telling me everything about you, Miss Ito.” Grabbing her cheek, he settled himself between her legs and said, “I want those eyes on me all night. Please.” 

Finally, she released her bag and put her hand on top of his. Nodding shyly, she happily let him get to work. When she left after their hour was up, a smile never left her face. She even tipped him an additional eight thousand yen. 

Stubbing out his cigarette, he set about cleaning up after his visit with his client. He showered, put the sheets in the wash, made the bed, opened the windows for fresh air, and put away the toys and lube. Putting her money in his wallet, he eyed the pad of bills. Hmm.

Pulling out his phone, he sent a quick message. 

**Ren:** Do you have any beer?

 **Ryuji:** I think we have a few cans in the fridge. Coming over?

 **Ren:** Yea, be there in about an hour.

 **Ryuji:** k

Putting twenty thousand yen in an envelope, he smirked. Maybe another case of beer would be needed tonight. Ryuji and Yusuke didn’t drink as much as he did, but they could still knock them back. Ryuji’s version of a few cans was two beers hiding behind the pickles that Ryuji’s mom always sent.

He putzed around his apartment as he got ready to leave. He put on the red scarf that Yusuke always complemented. His earrings were a gift from a client a few years back. He styled his hair out of his face. He didn’t bother with makeup around his friends, but he did apply a few skincare products. Tying the laces on his black leather shoes, he was finally ready to leave.

Following a train ride and a stop at the convenience store, he knocked on his friend’s apartment door. The yips of their small dog preceded the foot stomps heading towards the door. Ryuji opened it up and grinned up at him. “Hey, man, how’s it hanging?”

Ren smirked back, silently holding up the bags of beer and fried chicken from the convenience store. 

“Hell, yea!” Ryuji exclaimed, snagging the bags from him and heading back in towards the small kitchen. Ren watched as the little pooch followed Ryuji through the apartment and stepped inside himself. 

“Is that Ren?” said a calm voice from further inside. Yusuke popped out of his room, paint spilled all over his shirt and his hands. “Oh, you brought food. Did you know I was hungry? Joker, did you ever consider that you might be a telepath?” He joined Ryuji at the little table in their kitchen, pulling everything out of the bags. His nimble fingers organized the items by color and height, in an almost unconscious manner. 

Chuckling to himself, Ren made himself comfortable on their sofa. He threw his legs over the arm of the sofa and pulled his smokes out of his pocket. Putting one to his lips, he lit up. Inhale. Exhale. That’s better.

“Hey! Don’t do that here! Go smoke on the balcony, dammit! Gonna get us in trouble, shit,” Ryuji grumbled, scowling in his direction. 

Raising his hands defensively, he ducked out to the balcony to finish his cigarette. The warm clove scented smoke fought off the early winter chill. Breathing in deep, he wondered if it would snow soon. The sharpness it brought to his lungs made it seem likely. Not that the weather mattered much. He always felt cold.

A chilled can of beer touched his hand. He accepted it. Popping it open, he chugged about half of it in three big gulps. Wiping his lips, he spied Yusuke’s worried face beside him. “What’s up? What’s that look for?” he asked. 

The artist eyed him thoughtfully but did not speak his mind. He opened his own beer. Leaning on the railing next to Ren, he just said, “I finished my latest work.” His eyes shone with a mix of relief and something else as he looked at the street below. “I already have a buyer too. Should cover rent for the next few months.” Ah, money troubles again.

Ren drank the rest of the can at a normal pace. Maybe. What was a normal pace, again? “Any ideas for your next work?” he asked. Yusuke usually took a bit to find his next inspiration, but he always had a few ideas floating around all the time. He admired that his friend stuck to his guns and pursued art so single mindedly. His own job kept him busy enough, but he kept busy outside with other things. He took another puff of his cigarette, letting the clove flavor linger in his mouth before exhaling fully.

“I do have something in mind,” Yusuke muttered, taking a sip of his beer. “I’ll let you know when I have a clearer idea.” They clinked cans and drank together.

“Hey, if you’re done smoking, let’s eat!” Ryuji called from within. The little pooch yipped in agreement.

Ren smirked, put his cigarette out on his shoe and stashed the butt in his now empty can. He walked inside with Yusuke into the warm apartment and joined Ryuji at the little table where he had put some plates, some salty snacks, and a plate of the pickles from his mom. He still felt cold, but sitting here with his friends and drinking away the night took a bit of the edge off. He defrosted enough to take off his scarf and coat. Even unbuttoned his shirt. However, his core never seemed to warm up.

He drank twice as much as his friends, piling up the cans around the table. Ryuji and Yusuke kept exchanging glances when he would chug the last bit of each can, but he decided not to think about it. He cracked off a few jokes, bathing in their laughter. He even poked fun at them, enjoying their pleasant dynamic. 

Hours later when the last beer was emptied and the food all finished, they stumbled off to their respective areas of the apartment to sleep off the alcohol. Ryuji slapped him on the back before ambling off to his room. The tiny dog followed him. Yusuke made a decent effort at tidying up before calling it a night. He uttered a quick goodnight before wobbling off to his room. Ren closed the door for him after the artist collapsed on his futon. Ren dragged himself to the balcony for one last smoke before bed. 

Light. Inhale. Exhale. 

Scratching his fingers through his hair elicited a groan from his lips. Now alone in the silence, the warmth he had accumulated over the evening ebbed away. By the end of the cigarette, he felt chilly, as if he had sat in the bath too long and the water went cold without him noticing. Shivering violently, he escaped to the couch and bundled up in the blanket the fellas had left out for him. The alcohol muddled his brain enough that he fell asleep with little trouble.

In the morning, he woke up early to the quiet yips of the pooch behind Ryuji’s door. Peeking out from under the blanket, he watched as the blonde stumbled out of his room to walk the dog, grumbling the whole way. When the door clicked behind them, Ren sat up. His head throbbed a bit, but he preferred that to being alone with his thoughts. One by one he put on his shoes, his coat, and his scarf. Palming his pockets for his smokes, he eyed the last soldier waiting in reserve. He’d need to buy a new pack on the way home. He lit it up as he quietly snuck out of the apartment to not wake Yusuke. 

Stopping by the last apartment on the bottom of the stairs, he looked thoughtfully at the time. 8:45am. Good, not too early. He lightly knocked on the door. Smiling charmingly at the little old lady who answered, he said, “Hello! How have you been? I was just wondering if we can do what we did a few months ago. Can you put this towards the rent for apartment 316 this month?” He passed along the envelope he had prepared the day before. When the little lady accepted the money, he thanked her and continued on his way home. 

He never paid the full amount because he did not want to insult his friends. Almost certainly, they knew it was him who helped with their rent occasionally, but he knew their wages only got them so far. Especially so, if Yusuke had not sold a painting in a while. It wasn’t every month, but when he had a really good month he felt better about sharing the wealth. He wondered if they had caught on to the true nature of his job. Probably not yet.

In college he worked as a host to help pay for school. Even after he finished school, he kept with the work. It was decent money, and he was damn good at it; however, it evolved after a few years. Now, he is twenty five and working as an escort. Being a host was easier to explain, so he just never corrected them whenever his friends mentioned his work. He often toyed with the idea of revealing his secret job but always decided against disturbing the peace. It was better this way.

Nabbing a couple more packs of cigarettes from the vending machine near his apartment stilled the shakiness settling in his fingers. He walked down the road to head home, but he paused at the alley right before his street. Jazzy music wafted down the dirty alley. An odd magenta glow filled the area. His hands shook again. Jittery fingers fumbled for a new smoke. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Inhale.

He kicked a rock out of his way. The music drew his attention and pulled his stare towards the domineering flush of magenta. Turning on his heel, he trudged down the alley with his hands stuffed in his pockets. 

Exhale.

May as well check it out, he thought.

At the end of the alley stood a single door. The light came from a single bulb above the door. The nob easily turned in his nervous hand. Stepping inside, he found himself in what appeared to be a fancy hotel. No one manned the concierge desk, but he knew he didn’t need to speak to anyone. The jazz music played in the lobby and followed him as he carried on. Strolling steps brought him deeper and higher into the building where he passed faceless guests in the quiet hallways. His red gloved hand grabbed the railing as he climbed the stairs. His black coattails licked his legs as he made his way up the familiar structure. The mask settled on his face without him even noticing.

Joker emerged from the stairwell on the fifth floor. This was a new area for him. Opening the first door in this new hallway, he stared at the sight within. His client from last week stared back at him from where she was getting railed by her abusive boyfriend. That’s right. She used his service for quiet nights of cuddling. She had shared this secret during their last session. She hated the man but admitted that the sex was amazing. Closing the door, he explored the others.

Within each room, it was always the same. He found a dirty secret of one of his clients that they had revealed to him. He never judged them for it. He reveled in the knowledge that so many people had hidden desires. Average, normal people. They all wanted something that felt taboo or different from their current situation. It was a rush to provide those desires as a service. 

Even so, there was something else. This wasn’t about his clients. There was something else about these rooms that connected them all together. Shaking his head, he headed back down the stairs. Today wasn’t the right day. Maybe next time, he would figure out the secret. He walked back through the empty lobby, ignoring the shadows milling about the place on his way out.

Ren stepped into the winter breeze, pulling his coat tighter about himself. Without a further thought, he shuffled home. The magenta glow followed him the whole way. 

His empty apartment greeted him with stale air and dense silence. Without even removing his coat, he took five big steps to the kitchen. Every second, the silence grew louder. He pulled out the scotch from a cabinet, pouring it into the first glass he found. The stinging warmth in his throat as he downed it in one go steadied him. The buzzing silence receded enough that he could hear his phone jingle in his pocket. 

**Ryuji:** Do you have to work today? You were gone when I got back.

 **Ren:** Yea, had to head home and get ready, sorry. 

**Ryuji:** No prob! Next time, I’ll buy the beer!

 **Ren:** Sure thing.

Hmm. Lying about it was so easy, lately. He did have a client that day, but that wasn’t really it. In his mind, he saw the magenta glow and heard the muffled jazzy tunes. He hadn’t told anyone about it. He had no intention of telling them, either. They didn’t need to bother. He’d figure it out.

Abandoning the glass, he chugged back another gulp of the liquor before stashing the bottle where he found it. He didn’t want to get blasted this early in the morning. He was an alcoholic no doubt, but he wasn’t one of _those_ alcoholics. Was he?

Shaking himself out of it, he got to work readying his apartment for that night’s client. This one liked a certain atmosphere. He kept himself distracted by setting out candles and fluffing the velvet cushions on the armchairs. He showered, shaved, and dressed. The last touches involved doing his hair and lighting the candles just before the client was to arrive.

The rest of the night he threw himself into his work. Doing everything just so. Listening to every need and want that his client uttered. Pleasing them became his whole focus. He easily pushed thoughts of the earlier trip into the hotel away as he listened to their pleasured moans and whispers. When they finally left, he had forgotten all about his earlier anxiety.

After a hot shower and some late dinner, he got ready for bed. Between work and his lingering hangover, he drifted right off. That night he dreamed about a closed door on the top floor that he could not open. He also dreamed about angry red eyes and a revolver. The very same revolver that he had hidden in his bedside table.


	2. Weapon Focus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one! It's a bit short, but it felt right. Weapon focus effect is a real thing, but not necessarily as I have depicted it. Enjoy!

Mementos never stopped feeling eerie. Thrilling for sure, but always eerie. The noises lurking in every odd shape coupled with the ceaseless cold wind did nothing to alleviate the tension. Shadows of all sorts stalked every floor, each more treacherous than those who came from above. This dark place of the human subconscious thrilled him beyond anything he had ever experienced. 

Joker pulled his glove tighter over his fingers. The unrepentant smirk pulled his lips wide. His dagger and gun felt pleasantly heavy on his hip. Equipped with a fresh batch of Dr. Takemi's medicine, he had nothing to fear. This, his first foray into the metaverse alone, promised to be an exquisite adventure. 

He had given Morgana the slip by having Ann watch him for the night. Ever since their first trip here, he had ached to come back and explore the depths further. Even from their first time in the metaverse, he relished the pure, unhindered danger of each encounter. He could die at any moment, and it would be glorious. His friends would mourn him as a hero. He'd go down young and on fire. 

Without a moment to lose, he leapt into action. Every shadow that crossed his path brought his heart rate soaring. With cunning and grace, he prevailed every time. He felt the lack of teammates as a source of joy. There would be no one to save him if things went south. He was the master of his fate, here.

His dagger sliced through the shadow before him. It fizzled to death as he pulled the blade from its abdomen. He had traveled three floors down all on his own. After a few dicey encounters, he had just one pill left from Takemi. His body felt so heavy with exhaustion, but so light from the adrenalin high. He had to do this more often. 

Finding it prudent to return home, he dashed up the stairs to head back to the surface. His thoughts flitted between the fights he just overcame and the new personas he had acquired that night. Overall, it was a huge success. Distracted as he was, his brain did not register the nearby threat as he snuck past the loitering shadows. A shouted warning finally broke his churning reverie. 

Hm? 

"I said, turn around," spat a voice from behind.

Turning casually, he came nose to barrel with a gun.

A gun?

"How brave of you to traipse around on your own. Though, if the shadows here cause you this much trouble, you’re hardly a threat." It continued, derisively.

Yea, it was a gun. A revolver actually. Was it real? Or a fake like his?

"Maybe I will kill you now to keep you from becoming a problem later," pondered the sinister voice.

No, the detail was too good. It looked way too hefty to be a replica. That was a real revolver. It had a lovely ivory grip. Must be a vintage piece.

"Are you listening, you imbecile?! I am going to kill you! Look at me when I speak to you!" The voice shouted.

Breaking his eyes away from the gun in his face, his gaze travelled up from the barrel, to the finger clutching the trigger, over the gloved hand, past the arm extended outward, and finally, into the red eyes glowering at him with an unhinged sort of rage. Ah, maybe this was bad. Those eyes flickered with a heat so malicious that it made his heart race and his hands sweat. Joker smirked. On second thought. . .

He dove forward to tackle his assailant by the legs, ducking under the gun. The gun came down in an arc to try and smash into him, but his attack landed as intended and knocked them to the floor. A quick grapple ensued for the piece. Joker's hand emerged victorious with the gun, and he used his free arm to pin the attacker's hands above his head. He shoved the gun under their chin.

His mind cleared enough to finally take in the face behind a gruesome black mask. Those red eyes never lost their fire, even when pinned beneath him. The pale face was torn with a unholy sneer, white teeth bared in a rough snarl. Joker let his eyes take in the ragged costume the other boy was wearing. He almost looked like a dark court jester. Wait. Costume?

“Loki!” the boy shouted.

Shit.

Before Joker could defend himself, a persona had come to life over him and threw him against the subway wall. Joker crunched against it and slid down to the floor. Of course he had a persona. Dammit, that was a rookie mistake. He coughed wetly. His tongue tasted the iron of his own blood.

A hideous cackle erupted from behind the black mask. He stalked closer, step by measured step. The black and white form of his persona floated menacingly behind him. “What’s wrong? All out of options? Too disgustingly weak to summon your own persona?” he questioned, stepping ever closer.

Joker struggled to upright himself. Leaning on his elbow, he spat blood on the floor. Panting with the effort, he pushed himself into a seated position. He pulled the last pill from his coat pocket and choked it down. Opening his eyes again, he zeroed in on the muzzle of the gun leveled at his forehead.

“Are you ready to die now, scum?” whispered his assailant. He pulled back the hammer of the gun.

The pill started to kick in. His pain ebbed away. The amount of adrenaline in his body pushed everything else from his mind. Fight. Fight!

“Arsene!” he called. The winged thief burst into life, sweeping the other boy away with his fiery wing. Before the other could retaliate, Joker threw his dagger, forcing the other persona to protect its master. He charged in behind it and punched the boy in his middle just as he stood up. A leg swept out to trip him, and he somersaulted over it. He blocked another incoming hit and countered with a right cross. It hit. A responding fist crashed into his own face. The melee continued. 

They wove around the subway platform, landing hits and dodging others. Joker led their violence towards the dagger lying on the ground just beside the other boy. He took a kick to the side that slammed him to the ground. His fingers touch metal. Yes!

Flipping back up, he charged in, now armed with his knife. A loud clang rang out as the other blocked his strike with a dark sword. They shared an intoxicated grin. Their ragged breathing intermingled over their locked blades. Now, it was dangerous. Metal on metal clashed again. 

Joker smirked. Fuck, this was _ it _ . This was the best. The matching look on the other boy’s face gave it away that he felt the same.

Sadly, he did not have much energy left. His body shook with the effort of every strike. His feet were unsteady. They would need to adjourn this tryst for the night. Scanning for a way out, he eyed the train that just flew by the platform. That would work. He just had to time it perfectly.

He turned defensive, blocking every incoming strike. When he heard another train traveling through the tunnel, he pivoted and made a run for it. Ignoring the surprised shout, he jumped as it pulled out of the tunnel and rolled atop the train as it carried him away. His assailant shouted after him, a savage scowl over his face. 

Now safe, he jumped off the train a few platforms away and made his way up to the surface. He ran the whole way out. His heart returned to a normal pace as he slowly made his way back to Leblanc. He almost fell asleep on the train ride home. He had never felt more exhausted in his whole life. He grinned the whole way home.

Luckily, Sojiro had already closed up for the night when Ren stumbled inside. The closer he got to his bedroom, the more he felt every new cut and bruise he had acquired. His feet got heavier with every step. Letting his bag drop to the floor, he collapsed on the lumpy sofa. Peeling off his jacket, he took stock of his injuries. He had a bruise on his right side where he had received a solid kick. His cheek was red and swollen. There was a slash on his chest where he had not dodged far enough away. It had bled through his uniform shirt, leaving a red stain. His jacket had covered the wound on the train ride home which was fortunate. He pulled the first aid kit out from under the sofa and set to work tending to his wounds.

“What happened to you?!” 

Joker looked up, the lid of the disinfectant in his teeth. Morgana stood on the windowsill, his blue eyes wide. The cat jumped over to him, eyeing the blood and bandages. Joker did his best to look contrite. He flinched when Morgana hit his head with an angry paw. 

“Where have you been? Did you go into the metaverse? By yourself?! Joker!” He shouted. His kitty face was not the most expressive, but Ren knew he was upset. His tail lashed this way and that. “What if you had died,” he muttered. Those blue eyes looked down.

Oh.

Ren sighed. He put the cap back on the disinfectant before putting the bottle down. With soft touches, he rubbed at Morgana’s ears. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

Morgana pouted, looking away. He didn’t move his head away from Ren’s fingers though. “. . . s’fine.” Curious blue orbs looked back at the boy. “Why did you go?” He asked.

Ren smiled and shook his head. “I need money for my crippling drug addiction,” he said flatly.

Morgana stared at him.

Ren stared back.

Morgana hit him again with his paw. “Oh, come on!”

Ren laughed uproariously. He chatted with Morgana some more before they decided to sleep. As he lay there, his ears echoed with the resounding echoes of metal on metal. He wondered if he would run into that guy the next time he went to Mementos. 

* * *

Their phantom thievery had been fruitful of late. They had taken down some targets in Mementos and Madarame had confessed to his crimes just a few days prior. Ren knew they could only grow bolder from here. They were getting stronger with every infiltration, and each floor in Mementos brought them closer to finder Morgana memories. And yet. . .

“Hey, move those cables, kid!”

Here they were. The great phantom thieves of hearts were at a tv station, wrangling cables. At the end of the day, he was only too happy to agree to a day at the amusement park with his friends. Or as Morgana called it, the pancake looking place. 

“I’m really feelin’ it now, let’s go!”

“Me too! My stomach’s ready for roller coasters!”

“I think I’ll pass on the puke rides.”

Ren smirked. He wouldn’t mind some thrill rides today. 

“Excuse me?”

The voice pulled him up short. It was familiar. But from where? Looking up he caught the eyes of the stranger. The  _ red _ eyes of the stranger. No, surely not. No way was this boy the wild wretch he fought in Mementos a few weeks ago. 

“I couldn’t help but notice your uniforms. Are you students of Shujin academy?” the boy inquired. He asked the question generally, but his eyes never pulled away. 

“Ya, whaddaya want?” Ryuji asked.

“I was passing by, and it seemed polite to greet you. We will be filming together after all. Ah, where are my manners? My name is Goro Akechi.” There was a cold edge to those eyes. They really did resemble each other. His skin prickled. The longer they held each other’s gaze, the more sure he felt. Yes, this was the same guy. 

He ignored the conversation going on as he analyzed the boy. His slim figure matched the size of his assailant. His hair had been covered by his mask, but those eyes were too distinct. They had not run into each other again, even when Ren had snuck to Mementos on his own again. Even with that, he could never forget those eyes. They were the color of dried blood with all the warmth of an ice age. He wouldn’t assume now, but he was pretty positive that this was the guy.

“My apologies, but I must be going. There is a meeting that I have to attend. So you’re going to have cake now?”

Ah, he had lost track. Akechi was already making his farewells. Wait, cake? Why did that bother him. Oh shit. Only Morgana had mentioned pancakes. And only people who had been to the metaverse could  _ hear _ Morgana. Gotcha.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought I heard something about delicious pancakes. No matter. Well, see you tomorrow!” Akechi turned on his heel and headed down the hallway. 

Yea, tomorrow.

Tomorrow came, and his heartbeat grew louder when Akechi appeared as a guest on the program they were attending as audience members. The young detective presented a charming yet distant personality and answered all the interviewer’s questions with aplomb. He listened intently as Akechi condemned the Phantom Thieves as criminals. He saw that coming. 

The interviewers then took a poll and decided to ask the audience their opinion on the Phantom Thieves. Ren flinched back when a microphone was thrust in his face. “What are your thoughts on the Phantom Thieves if they were real?”

Grabbing Akechi's eyes with his own, he replied, “They’re necessary.”

The interviewer and Akechi expressed their surprise over his answer. “In that case, there is one more question I’d like to ask. If your friend next to you suddenly had his heart changed, wouldn’t you believe it to be the work of the phantom thieves?” he asked.

“What do you think?” Ren smirked, enjoying the flinch it caused Akechi.

The audience giggled, and the interview carried on. Ren was impressed by this carefully crafted mask the other boy presented. Having met the wild rage he harbored internally, Ren could feel it simmering underneath the charm. He applauded politely with the rest of the audience. Good show, Akechi.

After the interview, he waited for Ryuji to return from the restroom, so they could head back together. Unexpectedly, Akechi approached him. His pleasant smile made Ren smirk. The detective probably assumed that Ren had not figured out his real identity yet. When he had not visibly recognized Akechi the day before, he must have assumed he was safe. Okay. He could play with that.

“Ah, I wanted to thank you for our discussion earlier,” Akechi said, his artificial charm in full bloom.

“I wanted to thank you as well.” Ren said, just as charming.

This drew Akechi up short. “Have I done something to earn your gratitude?”

Ren hummed an affirmative. “Yes, I wanted to thank you for your lovely performance. You’re so charming in front of an audience.” 

Akechi’s shoulders tensed, drawing up towards his ears. “Ah, well you’re welcome. Would you mind if we chatted again? I find your honesty refreshing.” His eyes sharpened.

Ren grinned. “Of course.”

“Thank you. You Shujin students are quite interesting. I am looking forward to it.” Akechi’s charm came back with full intensity.

“As am I.” Ren’s grin grew wider.


	3. Whiskey Dependence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eventual smut is code for chapter 3.
> 
> Edit: I made a mistake by referring to Sumire as Kasumi. At this point, she has accepted her true self, so I changed it to reflect that.

Ren loved this bar. Kabukicho had a bar every six feet, but most of them were loud party houses. This one was quiet and tucked above a little coin laundry. It only stocked expensive whiskey and brandy, so it was a pretty niche place. Most of the other clients that night were older business men having quiet drinks by themselves. Admittedly, it was his favorite place to drink alone.

Stubbing out his spent cigarette, he pulled out the pack stashed in his trouser pocket. Placing it to his lips, he patted down his pockets for a lighter. Trousers? No. Jacket? No. Shirt pocket? No. Damn. He didn’t want to buy matches from the bar. Maybe he could bum a lighter off one of the other patrons.

A lighter flicked open and lit his cigarette. Breathing in the cool menthol smoke, Ren let it out slowly. “You always did lose your lighters, Ren-senpai.” 

Turning to his rescuer, he spied his coworker from the club he worked at before he became an escort. “Ah, Takeshi! Long time no see!” he greeted congenially. The younger host looked tired, but well. His hair was blonde now, and he had obviously updated his wardrobe for tasteful, expensive suits. “You must be making more money,” he praised, eyeing the nice watch on the younger man’s wrist.

Takeshi ducked his head, blushing. “I have been doing well. I worked hard after you left. I was number one for our club last month!” he exclaimed. His smile faded a bit, though. “Just a bit tired lately, to be honest,” he muttered, sighing loudly.

Ren watched him thoughtfully. “You’re not here to catch up.”

Takeshi blushed and nodded shyly. “You got me!” he responded, suddenly quite bashful. “I was wondering, are you busy tonight? With a client, I mean,” he asked, eyes searching Ren’s hopefully.

Ren smirked. Flicking the ash off the end of his cigarette, he leaned back in his stool to better appraise the other man. “No. I have the night free, tonight.” Pointing to his glass, he mentioned, “I have been drinking, though.”

“That’s fine!” Takeshi smiled. He rubbed a hand behind his neck. “To tell the truth, I would prefer you more relaxed. It would feel more honest,” he said, resting his slim chin in his hand.

“Oh? What would that be, Takeshi?” Ren asked. Takeshi just needed to ask correctly. . .

Drawing in a big breath, Takeshi turned to face him fully. Pulling a roll of bills from his pocket he said, “Please spend tonight with me. I want to be the customer, for once.” His eyes were so earnest. 

Taking the rolled paper, Ren let his fingers linger on Takeshi’s before pulling back. Takeshi swallowed. He unrolled the money and pulled out twenty thousand yen. He gave the rest back to the host.

“But senpai-”

“No buts! I have to take care of my cute kouhai, don’t I? If anything, I think I will actually enjoy tonight, so I’d feel bad making you pay full price for it,” he purred. He hadn’t been with a man in quite a while. Most of his clients were female. Not that he minded either way, but variety was nice. 

Downing his drink in one go elicited a throaty groan as the alcohol’s fire caught in his throat. He stood fluidly and motioned towards the door with a small nod. Takeshi’s grin warmed his middle better than the whiskey. This would be a nice night.

Luckily, his apartment was not too far away. He normally took male clients to hotels, but Takeshi deserved something more personal. The walk there was comfortable as they made idle conversation to fill the time. When Ren opened his apartment door, Takeshi expressed his excitement. “Woah, this is huge! You live here by yourself? Damn, maybe I should be an escort,” he muttered thoughtfully.

Ren thanked him politely. He motioned to the sofa for the other man to get comfortable. “Make yourself at home. Do you want a drink? I only have scotch right now,” he asked, pulling the bottle from the cabinet. At his acquiescence, Ren grabbed two rocks glasses and set them on the coffee table. He filled each with a few fingers of the amber liquor before handing one to his kouhai. 

Swirling it contemplatively, the host chuckled to himself. At Ren’s questioning brow, he explained, “It’s just funny. I pour drinks for women every night and drink myself sick most of the time. I forgot what it’s like to drink outside of the job. I forgot it can be enjoyable.” He took a long sip, frowning into his glass.

“Smoke?” Ren offered. 

Takeshi nodded.

Ren pulled two from the pack in his pocket. Handing one to his guest, he put his own to his lips. Pulling a lighter from the side table, he leaned in close to the other man to light both their cigarettes with the same flame. Flick. Inhale. Exhale. 

He ran his dark eyes over Takeshi’s face. He was handsome, no doubt. Thin faced with large eyes. He had well shaped features, particularly his lips. His hand moved to touch those lips gently, running his thumb over the smooth skin. The host leaned into his touch. His hand retreated to the back of the couch in a casual motion as he took another sip of his drink. “No need to rush. We have all night,” he said, eyes crinkling in playful amusement.

Takeshi smiled, nodding. He took another drink, and they enjoyed the comfort of each other’s company for a moment. It was unrushed. There was none of the mayhem from the club to sell as many drinks as possible or get customers to buy time extensions. Instead, it was peacefully quiet and still.

“Turn around,” Ren muttered quietly, setting his drink on the coffee table.

Takeshi did as requested, eyes curious but trusting. He swiveled his hips to face away from Ren. Ren’s long fingers sunk into his shoulders, kneading at the knots and tension. “Ahhhh,” Takeshi moaned, the massage sending warm tingles up and down his neck and shoulders. His head fell forward onto his chest as the muscles in his neck loosened. He let himself melt into the careful pressure. 

Seeing that his massage was successful, Ren let his hands wander a bit. He rubbed further down Takeshi’s back in long, smooth strokes. His fingers followed the curvature of his sides before exploring the other man’s chest. He pulled the man towards him, resting him carefully against his chest. He made a slow effort at unbuttoning his crisp shirt. Dropping his head down, he pressed his lips to the crown of Takeshi’s hair, then his ear, and then his neck. He could feel the quickening heartbeat under his fingers. 

Not content just to receive, Takeshi’s hand reached up to tangle in Ren’s hair. He turned his head to give Ren a better angle, giving off a pleasant noise whenever lips touched his throat. He sucked in a breath when Ren’s tongue slid over a sensitive spot near his ear. Ren felt the other man’s hand slide along his leg. His tongue and mouth continued diligently showing attention to the host’s vulnerable neck. 

Ren’s hands moved along the exposed chest below him. Playfully sliding his fingertips under the waistband of Takeshi’s trousers, he smiled at the quick pulse he felt with his lips. He nipped at his neck before changing tactics. He gently helped Takeshi up and led him by the hand to his bedroom. Motioning for him to sit on the bed, Ren took a moment to remove his tie, throwing it over the back of the armchair in his room. Takeshi's eyes followed his hands as he unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off his shoulders. After removing his shoes and socks, he approached the bed. 

He grabbed the other man’s face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over smooth cheeks. He leaned down giving the patient lips a small kiss before diving back in for something deeper. Takeshi’s hand grabbed his hips and pulled them forward to get Ren onto his lap. Their kisses grew increasingly heated, tongues making lazy circles over each other. Takeshi's hands mapped the geography of his back and settled on holding his backside.

Pulling apart, they separated long enough to lose their remaining clothing in a tangled mess on the floor. Ren climbed over Takeshi, enjoying the skin on skin sensation. He dipped his head down for a long kiss. Making his move, he grabbed Takeshi in his hand. He purred at the new sounds the younger man let out. His fingers wrapped around the head and slid from tip to base in a slow rhythm. Takeshi's hands grabbed onto Ren's biceps and squeezed. "Which do you prefer, Takeshi?" Ren questioned, between the lazy licks and kisses he peppered on that strong neck. His hand never stopped moving.

Breathless, Takeshi pulled Ren down, gripping him against his chest. "I wanna fuck you, senpai," he punctuated his declaration with a rough bite on Ren's ear. Ren grinned and slid out of Takeshi’s grip to grab a little bottle from the bedside table. He coated his hand in lube and reached between them to grip Takeshi by the base, giving it a few good strokes to coat it nicely. He poured more on his hand and reached back to prepare himself. 

As soon as he put the bottle back, Takeshi grabbed him by the arms and flipped their positions. Ren smirked up at him, now cozied up on the pillows. Takeshi straddled his legs and let one hand slide down his front before grabbing himself. He used his free hand to tease Ren gently, slowly. Ren relaxed into the touch, letting his mind go blank and focus on the sensation. Ah, it had been so long since he had been touched like this. 

Takeshi guided him to roll over and pulled his hips back, positioning Ren to get up on all fours. Ren looked over his shoulder and savored the hazy passion he found in the other’s expression. He felt Takeshi’s hand slide over his backside. A thumb rubbed at his entrance before sliding in slowly. It circled the rim a couple times before it was replaced with a couple fingers. He could vaguely feel Takeshi pleasuring himself with his free hand as he toyed with Ren. The fingers left and Ren relaxed for the incoming penetration. 

Takeshi pulled Ren’s hips back and guided himself inside, unable to hold back a deep groan as he pushed in. He moved slowly, thankfully. Ren hissed at the sensation. Discomfort slowly turned to pleasure as Takeshi moved himself at a very sedate pace. “Senpai,” he moaned, taking both of Ren’s hips in his hot hands. His movements got faster until he settled at a steady cadence that banished anything other than the pleasure from Ren’s mind. Strong hands pulled him up and arms encircled his chest as they lost themselves in the experience. 

Ren grabbed himself and matched the stokes of his fingers with the pace of Takeshi’s hips. Fuck, he missed this. The sensation of being filled and held and thrusted into. Their breathing got louder and louder, intermingled with an increased amount of pleasured moans. Ren leaned further back against Takeshi’s chest and stroked himself faster, rougher. Lips and tongue latched onto his neck, heightening the passion within him. He let loose, finishing into his own hand with a surprised cry. 

His climax brought the other man over the edge. The arms released him and pushed his face into the pillow as Takeshi wildly thrust into him. “Ah!” he exclaimed. Ren felt the twitching within him that signaled Takeshi had finished as well. Releasing a satisfied sigh, he pushed his hips over Takeshi’s spent piece before pulling forward to let him slide out. They collapsed together on the sheets, panting with satisfaction. 

When Ren got his breathing under control again, he sat up enough to dig out his smokes from the pocket of his trousers thrown on the floor. He pulled a spare lighter from the bedside table and flicked it open. Breathing in the smoke, he passed the pack and lighter to Takeshi who lit up his own. He pulled the ashtray from the side table and very gently laid it between them. His brain felt pleasantly empty. He took another puff and let the smoke drain out of his nose.

Takeshi tapped his cigarette against the tray. He made a pleased hum in his throat. “Thank you, Ren,” he said quietly.

Ren raised an eyebrow. “For what? That was just as good for me, dude,” he said.

Takeshi laughed a bit. “Not that. I mean, hell yea, but that wasn’t what I meant.” Ren waited as the younger man gathered his thoughts. “You took care of me when I first started. I tried to hide it, but I know I was awful at being a host in the beginning. I’m only where I am now because of you,” he muttered covering his embarrassment with a cough.

Ren stubbed out his cigarette and sat up. He looked over at Takeshi. Takeshi had blushed and looked away, his cigarette burning away between his knuckles. Smirking, he ruffled the other man’s hair roughly, earning a grumpy shout for his effort. His lips softened into a smile as he said, “It was nothing. Happy to help.” He stood, stretched, and scooped his boxers off the floor. After sliding them on, he turned back to Takeshi and joked, “Just make so much money that you can afford to pay my full weekend price!” Takeshi threw the lighter at his head. They laughed.

* * *

After Takeshi left the next morning, Ren found himself enveloped in silence again. He felt cold. Even busying himself with tidying up the apartment did nothing to distract his lonely mind. Perched on the balcony with a smoke, a sigh escaped through his nose. He needed a drink. Actually, he needed to be drunk. He checked his phone. He had a client in less than an hour, so that ruined his drinking plans. Sighing again, he committed to his work.

That night, he walked his last client to the station after their quiet date at a hotel cafe. They had a nice time enjoying each other’s company and flirting casually. She smiled at him as the door to the train closed. He waved as it moved down the rails. He felt his mouth relax into a frown. When her train cleared the tunnel, he turned on his heel and ambled back to his part of town.

His feet brought him closer to that little bar above the coin laundry. It was just a few streets away now. Just a few more steps, and he could drown in that bottle of expensive Hibiki whiskey hiding on the top shelf. It was malty, it was complex, and it was _warm_. He could almost taste it now.

Jazz music filled his ears. That pesky magenta light filled his vision. Ren came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs leading to his little hideout of a bar. Gritting his teeth in irritation, he looked to the side at the door that appeared next to him. Persistent little bastard. Sending one last forlorn look to the bar up the stairs, he sighed. His fingers turned the knob of the mysterious door, and he entered the empty lobby. 

Just like every other time, his clothes changed to his thieving attire. The shadows never turned hostile, but he was obviously a threat of some sort to this place. He made the tedious climb up the stairs to check for new floors above. Every visit seemed to add more doors and stairs in a chaotic mess of hallways and atriums. He emerged on what felt like a new floor and made the rounds, opening up every door to peer inside. Just as always the scene within the rooms revealed a secret that he knew about one of his friends or clients. What was the point here?

Opening the last door on that floor, he stared into Takeshi’s eyes as the younger man rubbed frustrated tears out of his face. He was in the dressing area for hosts at the host club, looking forlorn and lost. He saw himself walk in and cheer him up. He watched himself hand a water bottle and a sandwich to his kouhai, along with a pat on the back. Takeshi’s eyes glimmered with adoration as he did his best to make himself presentable after that. Feeling a weird twist in his gut, Joker slammed the door closed. 

Why did all these doors have something to do with him? His mind provided the image of a single door on the top floor. The penthouse suite. The door he knew he wasn’t supposed to open. Maybe, if he found that door. . .

He paused. 

The skin on the back of his neck pricked. Feeling a cold sweat form on his brow, he spun around to check behind him. Nothing was there. With a grumpy sigh, he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked back down the stairs. He just needed a drink. A weird noise behind him brought back the nervous feeling. He flipped around, and this time, caught a glimpse of something. Something shocking. He ran as fast as he could back up the stairs.

No. No no no no no. This couldn’t be. No way. There was no possible way it was him. He was dead. Those red eyes were gone forever. The revolver in Ren’s room proved that he was gone. All the alcohol in the world never changed that fact. 

Breaking through the door on the top floor, he caught a glimpse of him again. Fuck. It was him. It was really him. The figure had his back to him, but the costume was unmistakable. “Akechi!” Ren shouted.

The boy turned, and Joker felt his eyes sting. A bullethole drilled through his forehead. Blood had poured down his face, leaving thick trails down his neck. The hair on his head was matted with dried blood. He looked just as he did when Joker found him dead. His eyes had no life, no warmth, no familiarity. He was just a ghost. 

Joker fell to his knees and squeezed his eyes shut. “You bastard. You fucking lowlife bastard. You just had to go and die didn’t you. Just had to be the damn hero at the end. Fucking bastard!” He screamed. A viscous sob racked his body, and he did his best to bite it back. Not here. He wasn’t going to do this here. If he was going to break down, it was going to be at home within arms reach of something at least eighty proof. He shakily got back to his feet. The ghost was gone.

Scowling, he made his way out of the hotel. He threw the lobby door open and adjusted his coat, now back in normal clothes. Throwing one last glare at the door over his shoulder, he stalked back to his apartment with every intention of getting so drunk that he forgot his own name. He missed the bright blue eyes that followed him the whole way home.

* * *

A glass fell to the floor and shattered. The drink within splashed over the linoleum and the nearby cabinets.

“Akechi?!” Ryuji shouted, incredulously.

Morgana’s tail flicked to the side. “Yes. I saw him myself. He might have been a shadow, though,” he said, looking between the two shocked men in the kitchen. He expected Ryuji’s outburst, but Yusuke’s shocked face was a bit unexpected. The artist was normally so unruffable. 

Yusuke seemed to notice that his drink had fallen from his hand and set about cleaning up the mess. Furrowing his brow, his face turned pensive. He silently swept up the glass and cleaned up the spill with a towel while Morgana continued his explanation.

“I have more news,” the cat said. He waited for Ryuji and Yusuke to turn their full attention on him before carrying on. “I think this hotel is Joker’s palace,” his serious face left no room for disagreement.

Ryuji sputtered at first, quick to try and laugh it off. At Morgana’s dark stare, he frowned. “You’re serious.”

“Completely.”

Yusuke put the broom away. He sat down by the kotatsu that Morgana was sitting on. He bit his lip and looked down at his hands, clenched together in his lap. 

“What is it?” Ryuji asked, eyeing his roommate carefully. He was used to Yusuke’s eccentricities by now, but this was different somehow. 

“I’ve had a feeling there was something off this whole time,” Yusuke said. “He’s had this aura about him that seemed to keep us all out, like a dam holding back the flood. He’s been that way ever since we finished our work as the phantom thieves,” he pondered.

Ryuji’s face scrunched into a scowl. He nodded in agreement. “I know what you mean.”

“We should gather the others, as many as we can. I want to explore that place,” Morgana said, eyeing his companions.

“But we don’t have our powers anymore! The nav disappeared with the metaverse!” Ryuji said.

“But Joker hasn’t. If he can get in, then so can we.”

Yusuke and Ryuji looked at each other. Sharing a nod, they pulled out their phones.

 **Ryuji** : Hey, we have a problem, guys.

 **Yusuke** : Indeed. Are you all able to meet right away?

 **Ann** : I have the night off, but I can’t stay late. I have a shoot in the morning.

 **Yusuke** : Ryuji has work in the morning as well, so we’ll try to keep it brief.

 **Futaba** : I can be there! 

**Ryuji** : In person?

 **Futaba** : Yes, but I’ll need to take a cab. Pay my fee!

 **Ryuji** : Hell no! It’s an emergency. We need everyone tonight.

 **Makoto** : I should be done with work in another hour or so. I’ll head over as soon as I can.

 **Sumire:** I’m actually on a train back to Tokyo. I won’t be home until the morning. Feel free to call me when everyone arrives! I am happy to listen.

 **Ryuji** : Will do.

 **Yusuke** : How about you, Haru? Able to join us?

. . .

 **Haru** : Apologies for the wait. Yes, I can be there soon! I just got done with a meeting. I’ll be there soon!

When everyone gathered in Ryuji and Yusuke’s small apartment, they cozied up on the sofa and under the kotatsu. Armed with convenience store snacks and drinks from Ann, they spent a minute catching up. The pleasant atmosphere died when Morgana jumped onto the warm table and cleared his throat for attention. They called Sumire and put her on speaker phone.

“ _What’s going on, everyone?_ ” came Sumire’s voice from the phone.

Cutting to the chase, Ryuji announced, “Morgana found a palace. We think it’s Ren’s palace.” 

“What?!”

“Can we even go in?”

“How do you know it’s his?”

“I thought the metaverse was gone for good!”

“One more thing,” Morgana cut in. “I saw Akechi there.”

“Akechi!?”

“No, way! He’s dead!”

“Did you talk to him?”

“ _He disappeared after we dealt with Dr. Maruki, I thought._ ”

“He looked dead. Had a gunshot wound on his head. He didn’t say anything, but it was definitely him. I just don’t know yet if it’s actually him or a shadow version of him,” Morgana explained, his blue eyes staring out at the crowd of shocked faces. They all had varying degrees of surprise and worry in their expressions. He felt the same way.

“So, why do we think it’s Ren’s palace?” Makoto asked.

Morgana faced her and replied, “The door leading inside appeared for him. He knew exactly what it was. None of the shadows were hostile towards him either. Also,” He paused, looking down. The sight of Ren having a breakdown on the floor had frightened him. 

“What is it, Morgana?”

“Ren, he . . .” he paused. “I think it has something to do with Akechi. He was so crazy the way he chased after him. So desperate. When he saw the wound on Akechi’s head, he just fell to the floor and screamed,” he muttered the last bit.

Warm arms pulled him close. He looked up into Yusuke’s hurt eyes. He watched a tear fall down his cheek. “Yusuke?” he asked. All eyes turned on the artist who was sightlessly staring into Morgana’s face. 

“I think I know what it might be, but I want to wait until we know for sure,” he said, wiping his face on his sleeve.

Ryuji patted him awkwardly on the shoulder.

“We should check it out,” said Haru.

The other nodded.

“I think our schedules line up tomorrow night. We don’t need all of us, but enough to check it out. We can meet up again after we know more,” Makoto noted.

“Are we in agreement then?” Blue eyes looked out to the faces of his friends

They all nodded.

“Good. We infiltrate tomorrow after everyone gets done with work.”


	4. Self Destructive Urges

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We in it now, my dudes. I think the chapters are going to be meatier from now on. My Spotify playlist for this story grows by the day. Any recommendations for toxic love songs?

Ren eyed his phone, unsure of what he was reading. He looked to Morgana, who gave a cat shrug. Frowning with his thoughts in a swirl, he tried to gauge the validity of the text message. Morgana had no clue about their meeting in Mementos, but the cat had expressed his suspicions about the detective. Joker swallowed dryly.

**Goro** : Would you care to join me at the jazz club in Kichijoji?

Yes, he would. He would like that very much. Inwardly, he could feel the rush of their first encounter: the clang of metal on metal, the exhilaration in his blood, the headiness of staring down that revolver. Smirking to himself, Ren typed out his response.

**Ren** : Sounds like a date. Shall I head over now?

**Goro** : If it's convenient for you, yes.

He jumped on the first train possible. The journey there gave him ample time to artfully muss his hair and smooth the collar of his jacket. When they stepped off the train, Morgana hopped out of his bag to go exploring, allowing him some privacy with the young detective. He felt the corner of his lip tug as he spied Akechi waiting outside the small club. He stood there just as composed as he had at the TV station, with not a single hair out of place.

“Good evening.”

Red eyes met his, a curious chill running down Ren’s spine. “Good evening. Shall we head inside, then?”

Ren nodded.

They descended the stairs. They found a small table sequestered near the stairway. It was just large enough to prevent their hands from touching if they both leaned on it. The music and chatter kept their silence from feeling dour. Ren allowed it to continue until the waitress brought their drinks.

Taking a small sip of the virgin cocktail, he leaned forward in his chair to rest his cheek on his fist. He eyed Akechi, glancing over the immaculate appearance, precise posture, and stiff neck. He idly wondered if the other boy had too much on his plate. Flicking his eyes back up, he finally said, “This is a much nicer date than our first time together.”

The detective’s posture stiffened uncomfortably. His eyes chilled. Ah, there it was. Those were the eyes of the boy from Mementos. The other boy frowned deeply, seemingly weighing his next words very carefully.

“Not one for pretense, I see. Very well, I can accommodate that,” Akechi muttered, and took a swig from his own drink. He leaned forward on his elbows, mere inches from Joker’s face. “Here I thought you would enjoy a little theatre,  _ Joker _ . Now, I’m disappointed,” he caviled. 

“I prefer the real you,” Ren whispered. Hearing that name from the other boy’s mouth did strange things to his stomach.

Akechi’s eyebrow raised, his lips pulled down in a frown. He leaned back in his seat. Finally looking away, he uttered, “You would be the first.”

Silence settled in the space between them.

Ren eyed the other’s stern face. Nestled in this small corner, he looked almost vulnerable. Almost pouty. He liked that face. He liked that he had caused that face. Maybe, this was a worse idea than he had originally thought. Sucking down the rest of his drink, he slammed the glass on the table along with some money for the bill. 

Akechi’s surprised eyes turned to him.

Feeling his cheek crinkle with a smirk, Ren grabbed Akechi’s arm and pulled him towards the stairs.

“What are you doing? Unhand me! Amamiya-san!” the boy hissed at him.

“Let’s go. I know a place more suited to our tastes,” he said. He felt Akechi stop struggling. He released his arm, knowing the other would follow. 

And indeed, he did follow. He followed Ren as he snuck through an alley to avoid Morgana and made his way towards the station. When Ren pulled out his phone, Akechi’s eyebrow rose again as he watched Ren type in the destination.

“Mementos?” he asked.

“Of course.”

When the real world bled away, Joker took his time descending the steps to Mementos. Akechi’s footsteps echoed his own. He finally stopped on the first platform. Spinning around, Joker felt a bit giddy at seeing the dark costume and black mask. “There he is,” Joker said, pointing a finger gun at the other boy.

Akechi crossed his arms. Ren could feel his gaze as a physical touch as the other boy assessed him. "What is your game here, Joker?" he asked.

Joker's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Isn't it obvious? We're on a date," he replied.

Akechi's face scrunched before a malicious chuckle bubbled out of his throat. "I see. Well, as you have been so charming this evening, I am happy to oblige," he said, sliding his sword out of its sheath. His eyes gained that feral glow Joker had been unable to forget.

Joker stepped up to Akechi and grabbed the other’s face in his gloved hand. He reached down his other hand to slide from the Akechi’s wrist to cover the hand clenching the sword hilt. Joker could feel Akechi’s breath on his face. “How about a wager? See which of us can kill the most shadows. Loser buys dinner tonight.” he asked, smirking.

Akechi grinned cruelly back. “I hope you have enough money for sushi,” he asserted. His own hand reached up to grip Joker’s throat. “Like I’d lose to scum like you in the first place.” The claws of his glove left scratches on Joker’s neck as he broke away roughly. He brushed past him, leading the way down to the depths.

Ren bought sushi that night. 

* * *

Here they were again. Meeting at the jazz club was just a pretense now. This marked the sixth time the pair had slipped into Mementos together. The score was tied, each having won their little wager three times. Tonight was the tie breaker. If Joker lost, he’d probably have to buy ingredients and cook for them. Akechi’s expensive taste was brutal on his pocket money.

Their dinner dates afterward were always surreal. As soon as they returned from the metaverse, Akechi would carefully slip back into the fake face he presented in public. He did it so easily as if had just changed into a different jacket. They would have a pleasant time over dinner discussing philosophy, justice, and morality. They never discussed Mementos or their relationship. Though, sometimes he would catch a glimpse of the boy’s true self if he managed to surprise the detective. Those were his favorite moments.

Between their dates, the phantom thieves had been busy dealing with the palace of the crime lord, Junya Kaneshiro. They had a new member in the frigid student council president, who had figured out that Ren and his friends were the phantom thieves. They had also progressed quite far in mementos, but not far enough to solve the mystery of Morgana. Even still, Kaneshiro would confess soon, allowing them to progress further down.

Joker eyed Akechi’s back as the pair made their way to the surface. Currently the kill count was forty-five for Joker and fifty-three for Akechi. The detective had downed a big group of enemies and taken them all out at once. He had a feeling Akechi was already planning out his choice for dinner. Joker could already see the triumphant expression the other boy always wore when he won. Joker mentally had a funeral for his wallet.

They encountered another group of shadows. Joker: forty-seven, Akechi: fifty-four. 

Kaneshiro’s shadow had been rather forthcoming with information when they had defeated him. He had shared information about a black masked persona user who was causing the psychotic breakdowns. Joker eyed Akechi’s black mask. Apparently, this other person had no qualms about using his powers for much different reasons than the phantom thieves. Joker listened to Akechi’s murderous threats as they fought another pack of shadows. Yup, that was a given. Joker couldn’t even feel surprised. If anything he felt the opposite. Elated? Aroused? Ah, best not go there.

Joker killed the current pack all on his own by hitting their weakness. Was that fifty for him now? He had lost track. Judging by Akechi’s scowl, he was catching up. He really was a sore loser. Joker found it endearing. They killed a few more packs before emerging onto the safe platform that led directly to the surface. Crap, what was the score?

“Well, what do you want tonight? I’m not in the mood for anything heavy though,” Akechi grumbled, stuffing his gun and sword safely away. He crossed his arms over his chest petulantly. 

That answered his question. Joker rolled his shoulders to ease his aching muscles as he mulled it over. Dinner, huh? He wasn’t really that hungry anyway because he had eaten before they met up that night. He ran a gloved hand through his hair, the sweat slicking it back and out of his eyes. He caught Akechi staring. “What?”

“Nothing. Just, I’ve never seen your hair like that before,” the detective mused, taking a more contemplative stance. His red eyes ran over Joker’s hair and face, glazed over in thought. Did he just bite his lip?

Oh. Joker knew what he wanted, now. He crossed the space between them and grabbed Akechi’s face in his hands, letting his fingers rub over his cheeks. He savored Akechi’s genuine surprise, wishing to claim that expression. He dug his thumbs into soft skin. “Here or Leblanc?” his voice came out raw, guttural. 

Those cold red eyes turned fiery. “Here,” he growled.

Joker tore off Akechi’s mask and leaned down to bite bare throat. He felt Akechi’s hands pull at his coat, and he helped shrug it off. Akechi also tugged off Joker’s mask, tossing it near his own. They pulled away long enough to lose their shirts. Touching down on the floor cushioned by their clothing, he pulled the other down by the wrist. 

Akechi pushed him onto his back and immediately latched onto his nipples, biting, twisting, licking. His tongue pushed, stroked, and lapped at them with varying degrees of intensity. The leather of his gloves brushed against Joker’s bare skin, feeling cold and hot simultaneously. The cold metal claws left scratches and extracted shivers each time they drew blood. When Joker bunched his hands in the other’s hair, Akechi responded by biting harder on his chest, leaving angry teeth marks in a ring around his left nipple. He felt the smirk against his skin as he let out a pained groan.

Joker’s own hands wandered, smoothing over the detective’s back, sides, arms, and shoulders. He could feel the heat of the skin through his own gloves. His hands slid down further, boldly grabbing Akechi through his pants. He let his hand rub over the bulge there, feeling the shape twitch under his fingers. He felt his own arousal move similarly. He reached down with his other hand to undo the button and zipper blocking him from his prize.

Before Joker could pull Akechi out of his pants, the other man grabbed his hands and pinned them above his head. Red caught gray. Their ragged breathing filled his ears. His blood surged in his face and oozed out of his wounds on his chest. His arousal throbbed painfully against his clothes. “Akechi,” he muttered.

Akechi used one hand to hold Joker’s arms hostage while using his free hand to undo the button on Joker’s trousers. He slid the zipper down slowly. Joker raised his hips to help as Akechi slid his pants down just enough to free his erection. Akechi removed his glove with his teeth, letting it fall on Joker’s chest. He ran a thumb over Joker’s lips before sticking two fingers in the wetness of his mouth. 

Joker dutifully sucked and licked, letting his pooling saliva drain over his cheeks and chin. He swirled his tongue around them, between them. He moaned around the fingers when Akechi pressed their hips together, sliding firmly and slowly against him. He choked a bit when Akechi’s fingertips pushed too far back into his throat. 

The fingers receded. His hands were freed. Lithe arms rolled him over by the hips. A hand pressed his face into the ground while the other rubbed over his back and rear. A finger slid inside quickly, followed by another. 

Joker let out a pained noise. He used his now free hand to reach down and stroke himself. He let his fingers slide over himself slowly, paying closer attention to the digits spreading his hole wider. His hips moved forward and back, creating delicious friction. When he moved back, he would push into the fingers and out of his own hand. Moving forward, the fingers would slide out as he thrust into his hand.

Akechi let go of his head to grab his hips with both hands. Joker cried out when Akechi thrust into him all at once. With a shudder, he stroked himself, enjoying the stinging in his backside mixed with the pleasure of his hand. “Move!” he called out. Akechi silently obliged, moving deep and hard and fast. He grabbed Joker’s arms, making his face fall to the floor again, and held onto them as leverage to go even deeper. 

Joker felt balls smack his backside. The slapping sound of each thrust drove him wild. He used their joined arms to his advantage, pushing back to meet each push of Akechi’s hips. The cadence of their rhythm devolved to a wild staccato as their pleasure soared. “Hey, I’m-” before he could properly warn the other, he came all over his jacket under his knees. 

Akechi pulled out, grabbed Joker by the hair, and shoved himself down the other’s throat. He smirked when Joker choked and gagged. He slid in and out of Joker’s lips, pressing against the back of his throat. When Joker’s tongue started working in tandem with the thrusts of his hips, he threw his head back with a groan. He pushed harder with each thrust, burying himself deep enough to shove Joker’s nose into his pubic hair. When Joker’s hands roamed over his body, squeezing nipples and slapping his ass, Akechi let out a small shout as he finished in the other boy’s throat. He twisted his fingers painfully into Joker’s hair. He did a few slow thrusts before pulling out fully. 

Now spent, they sat there panting, staring at each other. When their heart rates and breathing fell back down to normal levels, they tidied themselves and dressed slowly. Joker slung his dirtied jacket over his shoulder instead of wearing it. He turned to Akechi, his body feeling light yet exhausted. The detective looked like he felt the same. He threw his arm over the detective’s shoulders and guided them back to the real world.

When they emerged, Ren had his school jacket over his shoulder. Akechi shrugged off his arm. He looked to the other boy in askance. Akechi turned away, but not quick enough to hide his smirk. “Good night, Ren,” he called over his shoulder, already ambling down the street.

Ren chuckled. “Good night, Goro,” he called back.

Akechi threw his hand up in a small wave.

Now alone, Ren leaned against a nearby streetlight. His body tingled. The cuts on his torso stung. His throat felt sore. He could still taste the bitterness of Akechi’s cum on his tongue. That had gone much better than expected. He ran his hand through his hair a few times, trying to calm himself. He thought of his friend’s faces if they knew what he had just done. His chest tightened. 

He was never going to tell them, he decided. 

* * *

Okumura was dead. Haru's father had been murdered and died on live television. Akechi had killed him. He didn't know how, but he knew it was his lover; however, he had not said a word to anyone. Instead, he was in Mementos waiting for Akechi to arrive.

"There you are," he heard from beside him. 

Joker looked up from his position on the ground. He had cleared a few floors just to relieve some tension. The shadows were weak on this floor anyhow. Joker motioned across from himself, inviting the other to sit down.

Akechi sat. He kept quiet, choosing to wait for Joker to speak. 

"Can I see your revolver?" He asked.

Akechi handed it over.

Joker set it between them. "I want to propose a new wager. It's dangerous though," he proposed, eyes catching the other boy's red gaze.

Akechi looked at the gun between. Then he looked back up at Joker. "Explain."

Joker pointed a finger gun at the side of his head. "Pull the trigger, ask a question. You can choose not to shoot, but you won't get to ask another question," he said, eyes unwavering.

Silence.

Finally, Akechi asked, "How do you know I'll tell the truth?" 

Joker placed two glass vials beside the gun.

Akechi's eyes widened. His hands trembled a bit in his lap. Clenching them into fists, he looked up again. His eyes were set. He gave a single nod.

Joker reached for a vial. Akechi followed suit. They each drank the contents in one go. It had a bitter taste. Joker felt that hazy feeling he had experienced at Takemi's clinic. She had made this medicine by accident, but it worked out in Joker's favor. It's effects strangely inhibited a person's ability to lie.

Both of them stared at the gun. Akechi grabbed it. He emptied the rounds. He tucked the excess in his pocket before loading a single bullet in the cylinder. It slid into the chamber with a high pitched metallic sound. Akechi made a show of spinning the cylinder and flipping it over to click it into place. He placed it back between them. 

Joker's fingers curled into fists. He felt sweat trickle down his face. His heartbeat pounded in his ears and chest. He blew a long breath out of his nose. He reached down to grab the gun-

Akechi grabbed the gun first. He held it just above his ear. He held Joker’s gaze, unyielding. Click. 

Joker took a breath.

The gun lowered to rest in Akechi’s lap. In a quiet voice, he asked, “Why haven’t you told them about me? About us?”

Joker looked away. He didn’t need to ask to whom the other was referring. A big breath in. A slow breath out. “They wouldn’t understand. I don’t want them to understand. I just want you for myself. It has nothing to do with them,” he said, frowning into the distance. He turned back, catching a glint of something in Akechi’s eyes before it passed. He held his hand out for the gun.

Akechi ran his thumb over the grip. Slowly, he handed it over. He paused before relinquishing it fully.

Joker stared down at the piece. He ran his fingers over the barrel, the cylinder, and the grip. The ivory caught the murky light of Mementos ethereally. He loved this gun. It was beautiful. He held it to his head. It was prettiest when in action, though. Click.

He heard Akechi release a breath. 

Joker choked out a gasp. He lowered the gun while trying to calm his heart rate. Okay. Time to ask. He stared at the gun as he asked, “Do you like killing or is it a job?” He heard Akechi suck in air through his teeth. He peeked through his bangs.

Akechi’s face had twisted into an ugly expression. He could physically feel him wanting to deny it. Finally, the other snarled out, “It is a job, but I don’t hate it. It makes me feel in control. It gets me closer to my goal.” His hands gripped his knees hard enough that the claws on his gloves tore into the fabric. He thrust out his open hand, staring at the gun.

Joker handed it over carefully.

This time Akechi did not hesitate. He pressed the gun to his forehead and pulled the trigger. Click. He let out a crazed, choked chuckle. Breathing in deep, he regained his composure as he fixed his hair with his free hand. His next question was unexpected. “Do you trust me?”

Joker’s eyebrow lifted. “I trust you to be yourself. I trust that you are loyal to yourself alone. I trust that I will be safe with you until something changes that. I don’t trust your choice in movies though,” he replied, smirking. Silently, he held out his hand.

Akechi hesitated. His fingers tightened on the gun before he placed it in Joker’s waiting hand. 

This was the fourth shot. It was a one in three chance to be fatal. The ivory glinted back at him. His hands shook terribly as he raised it up. Pressing the cold metal under his chin, he caught Akechi’s manic eyes with his own. He wondered if he looked just as wild, just as unhinged. Smiling, he felt his eyes water. This was fine. 

Click.

Both boys sighed in relief. Still staring at each other, they shared a mirthless laugh. On some silent cue, they grabbed each other and fell to the floor in a kiss. Their masks got in the way, so they threw them aside. Lips, teeth, and tongues clashed in a passionate power struggle. When they parted for air, they shared equally wicked grins. Akechi had pinned Joker to the floor. Joker lightly clutched the gun in his hand laying on the floor. His other hand was tangled in Akechi’s hair. They realized simultaneously that this was their first kiss and laughed together. 

Joker let go of Akechi’s hair and brushed knuckles gently over Akechi’s cheek. He pushed the other boy’s hair out of his face. Licking his lips, he asked, “How are you going to kill me, Goro?” 

Akechi’s stiffened all the way to his toes. He didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t breathe. His wide eyes stared down at the raven haired boy beneath him. He fisted his hand in Joker’s hair, pulling back to expose his neck. He scowled. After a moment, his surprise turned to something else. Something smug. He released the dark hair and slid his fingers over Joker’s hand holding the gun. “I’ll use this. I know how much you like it,” he purred, leaning down to nip at Joker’s neck. 

Joker lost himself in the touches. His heart beat fast and wild in his chest. His arousal rubbed against Akechi’s. He loved that gun. That gun was perfect. He pictured Akechi pulling the trigger on him, and he felt his erection strain against his pants.

Without warning, Akechi pulled back, the gun somehow in his grasp. Joker had not even felt him take it. The detective pulled the hammer back. Two chances left. Fifty percent chance this would be fatal. He breathed in and out in an increasing rhythm, on the verge of hyperventilation. He reached his hand down to cover Joker’s fist which clutched his shirt. His hand shook with such tremors that Joker worried he would drop the gun. He pressed it to his temple.

Click.

Akechi let out a shaky, tumultuous sound. His rigid posture relaxed. He pointed the gun into Joker’s face. They stared at each other over the barrel of the gun. “Do you love me?” he questioned, voice steady and gentle.

Joker felt his heart flip. He released his death grip on Akechi’s shirt and slid his hands up to cradle the other’s face. He touched his ears, his cheeks, his lips. Rubbing a thumb over those lips, he replied, “Yes.” He watched Akechi’s face for a reaction.

The detective face twisted with a mix of emotion that he seemed to struggle with comprehending. He grabbed Joker’s neck with one hand and squeezed. He lowered his head, letting his bangs cover his eyes. He did not release the pressure even as Joker choked for air. He pointed the gun at the wall and pulled the trigger. 

**BANG.**

Akechi’s hand let go and Joker gasped for air. Tears leaked from his eyes as oxygen filled his lungs. He felt more than saw Akechi throw the gun to the side. He grabbed Akechi’s shirt and pulled him down, throwing his arms around him in a tight embrace. They laid there for a long time. He felt Akechi’s hands move around him in return. He felt the other boy shake in his arms. He clutched him tighter until he relaxed.

They did not move until a reaper showed up and spoiled the mood. After running away, they made their way for the surface. Joker still had a hard on, and they ended up fucking in an alley somewhere in Kichijoji when they returned from the metaverse. When they parted for the night, they did not kiss, but they did take longer than usual to go their separate ways.

“Goodnight, Ren.”

“Goodnight, Goro.”

* * *

The dishes clinked in the sink as Ren washed them. He tidied up the tiny kitchen in Leblanc, putting this and that in their rightful place. Once the tables were wiped down, he set about sweeping the floor. Finally done with closing up, he flipped the sign on the front door to deter anyone from entering the cafe. He walked back to the counter and sat down. 

Akechi swirled the dregs of coffee in his cup. He leaned to the side enough to brush shoulders with Ren. He had been in that same stool for a couple hours. He had not spoken a single word since he walked through the door. It felt off. Something was wrong. 

Ren crossed his legs and waited. 

“I looked at the Phansite today. Your popularity has really gone down. About as much as initially expected really,” he muttered.

“Expected?” Ren mused.

“Yes.  _ Expected _ ,” Akechi seethed. He dropped the cup back into its saucer, uncaring eyes watching the china break. Its contents splashed onto the counter and dribbled onto the floor. 

“You’re angry.”

“Amidst other things, yes.”

Ren felt nauseous. “Are these your expectations or someone else’s?”

Akechi did not answer. “Do you remember when I asked if you trust me?” he asked instead.

Ren nodded. It clicked. His eyes widened. “Do you mean that something has changed?”

Akechi nodded. He flicked a piece of broken china across the room. 

Sighing, Ren ran a hand down his face. He looked at Akechi, tense and brooding beside him. He wasn’t safe anymore. Taking down Okumura was according to someone else’s plan, and they had no idea who it was. Ren took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes, feeling a throbbing ache build behind his eyes. Akechi was here to let him know that their relationship was different now. Wait. Akech was  _ here _ . He made the effort to tell him in person.

Ren turned to the other boy and caught him staring. “I am not in danger yet, though. Am I?” he said more as a declaration than a question. Akechi frowned, eyes pensive. He watched as the other boy caught on. 

“No, not right now. Probably not for another few weeks.”

“Join me upstairs?”

“What about your feline escort?”

“Not home tonight.” 

Eyes glinting with mischief, Akechi opened his mouth to respond, but his phone dinged in his pocket. He frowned. He pulled out his phone and checked the message. He texted a reply before stowing the phone back in his pocket. His face turned to stone. “I have to go.”

“But Goro-”

“Don’t call me that!” he shouted. He seemed just as surprised as Ren that he had raised his voice. Looking away, he explained, “We can’t know each other like that right now. I shouldn’t have come here.” He got up and started walking to the door.

Ren caught his wrist. He didn’t dare look at him. He didn’t want to see the anger right now. “Please,” he asked, voice just above a whisper.

Akechi sighed. He put a patient hand over the one clenching his arm. “Not tonight. We still have a little time. Let me go, Amamiya-san,” he murmured.

Ren let go. 

Akechi left just as quietly as he had arrived.

Ren sat in the silence, staring at the broken cup on the counter.


	5. Partially Completed Puzzle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than I anticipated, but it's also longer than all the others. I rushed the ending a bit to spend a night off with my partner. Wishing you much beer and happiness o7 Enjoy!

The gathered group did their best to look inconspicuous. They were a pretty large group to be loitering in an alley in Kabukicho. It was a busy enough night that they didn’t get much attention, though. They all turned to the ominous door at the end of the alleyway. The tell-tale glare of the magenta light above the door illuminating the dingy area. Someone gulped audibly.

“Come on, let’s just go in,” Ryuji muttered, hands shoved in his pockets. No use standing out here staring at it, he thought. He was freezing his balls off, too.

The others nodded and Morgana led the way inside the door after Haru opened it for him. The transition to the metaverse was oddly seamless compared to how it was before. As soon as they set foot in the empty hotel lobby, their costumes appeared. He could feel the presence of his persona as well. Already a threat? Yea, he kinda expected that. The leader of the phantom thieves would know that any invader was there to change his heart. 

Ryuji looked around. The hotel wasn’t some cheap hostel, but it wasn’t the most luxurious either. Just average. He honestly expected something a bit more wild. Ren was so dramatic, it was almost disappointing how simple his palace looked. He could see down the plain hallway and spied the doors leading to the rooms. Wonder what was inside…

“Let’s split into groups. We can explore in teams of four. First team is Yusuke, Ryuji, Morgana, and Futaba. Second group is me, Ann, Sumire, and Haru. We’ll move together and switch out to pace ourselves,” Makoto advised, ever the strategist. Ryuji appreciated her level headedness because he had almost rushed down the hallway on his own. Right, gotta keep his cool. Just be cool as a cucumber, he told himself with a nod. 

Everyone nodded in agreement. Haru and Futaba passed out some of the supplies they had procured including food and medicine. Morgana and Futaba discussed the treasure location based on their readings and suspected it was on the top floor. Plans made, they started down the hallway. They could do this, Ryuji thought. This was no different than any other time in the metaverse. He willfully ignored all signs to the contrary, like Futaba’s shaky hands, Haru’s blatant worry, and the group’s atrophied skill as a whole. He refused to acknowledge how wrong it felt to not have Joker with them.

His false bravado faltered when they reached the first door in the hallway. Gulping, he eyed the handle, half hoping it would open on its own. When no one else made a move to open it, he grit his teeth and grabbed it. Twisting it open with more force than necessary, it took a moment to register what was happening inside.

The girls and Morgana let out some surprised noises. Yusuke hummed thoughtfully. Futaba turned around with a red face. Haru joined her, just as red. Makoto tried to keep her composure, but the loose jaw gave her away. “He’s not just a host, is he?” she said, keeping her voice even.

Ryuji nodded. He kinda thought something was up, but he had never known how to delicately breach the subject with his friend. Of course, he was about as delicate as a car running through a storefront. He eyed the view of Ren getting rammed from behind by some skinny, tall guy. It looked like a love hotel room, and there was an envelope on the bedside table. Well, even he could put those pieces of evidence together. When the guy climaxed, Ryuji grimaced at the ugly noise the guy let out. He felt something in his gut as he watched Ren gently stand and trade pleasantries with the other man as he dressed. He wasn’t ashamed of his friend, but he felt angry? He couldn’t really place it. 

He traded a glance with Yusuke, who nodded back at him. He wasn’t surprised either. Ryuji huffed through his nose and slammed the door closed. He ruffled his hair in frustration. How had he not really made the connection? He kicked the door.

“R-Ryuji?” Ann asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. He felt them slump a bit at her touch. He could feel the others looking at him too.

He growled a bit and kicked the door again, imagining that skinny guy’s face under his foot. Ugly fucker. “I’m fine,” he scowled. He stuffed his fists in his pockets. “I never told you guys, but Ren helps us out sometimes,” he said in explanation, catching eyes with Yusuke. His roommate frowned, but nodded. 

“Helps with what?” Morgana asked, looking between the others who fell suspiciously silent. Makoto looked away. Haru looked at the blonde with pity all over her face.

Ryuji felt his neck flush. Fighting the embarrassment, he choked out, “With m-money. We, uh, we’ve been short on rent sometimes.” He wished a shadow would show up right now. He almost wanted to run through the door with the skinny guy to escape the pitying look he got from Haru. “Oh, fuck off with that! We’re doing okay, man,” he shouted, feeling satisfied when she squeaked.

“I think what he’s trying to say is that we’ve known he’s making more money than a normal host. He stopped talking about host work a couple years ago, when he moved into the nice apartment he’s in now. His suits got more tasteful, too,” Yusuke explained. Ryuji resolved to buy dinner this week in thanks for the save. “About a year ago, our landlady said a handsome man gave her money to help with our rent. We’ve never asked him, but we know it’s Ren,” Yusuke mused, leaning on the wall.

“Aww, I was trying to keep that a secret!” called a voice behind them before anyone could comment further. They flipped around in attack positions to face the threat but pulled up short when they realized who it was. Ren’s shadow stood before them, barefoot and clothed only in a silky black bathrobe. He had a scruffy unshaven face and a cigarette hanging between his lips. He was pushing a fancy bar cart covered in various liquor decanters and bar accoutrements like citrus fruit, bar spoons, jiggers, and ice. “You guys take care of me the most, and I wanted to do something nice. It’s my heartfelt thanks for lending me your hearts and your couch!” he continued, swooping down in an elegant, unsteady bow. “I didn’t want you to know it was me, though. Just paying back some kindness before I die,” he pouted.

What the hell? Ryuji watched as the shadow hummed to himself and busied about the cart to make a drink. “Die? Whaddaya mean die?! Are you sick or something?” he shouted back. Fear clenched him tight, bringing his shoulders to his ears. Did Ren have some terminal illness?

“Oops!” shadow Ren said, smirking over his drink. “You’ll just have to find out for yourselves,” he carried on, taking a delicate sip. 

“Bullshit! Spit it out!”

“Nope! I won’t stop you from finding it out, but they might," he said, pointing behind them. He pushed his little cart down a different hallway.

Before they could give chase, shadows erupted around them. They were shaped like normal people but faceless and aggressive. Well, time to kick some ass. Ryuji jumped in, listening to Makoto's and Futaba's direction. He beat them all back brutally with his bat, teaming up with Yusuke to finish off the last one. "Take that, fucker!" Ryuji shouted, feeling especially vindictive.

"Let's continue," Makoto called from the rear. 

They moved further down the hall to check another door. On opening it, they found a similar sight to the last, only this time, Ren was balls deep in an older woman. Ryuji, again the only one brave enough to open the door, closed it with as much force as he could muster. The next few doors offered the same situation: Ren having sex with a different customer.

Ryuji's innards were boiling with anger. He couldn't properly put a pin on the cause, but he had an idea on why it made him so angry. Ren's eyes were so empty. It wasn't that he looked defeated. He just looked resigned as if that was the only decision he could make, the only realistic path forward. It was the same look he saw when Ren didn't know he was watching. The same eyes he wore when Ryuji would peek out at the balcony and watch Ren smoke his cigarette. He hated not knowing why his best friend looked like that.

They reached the stairs to the next floor. They had encountered some other shadows, but there were none on the staircase. Now alone with their thoughts, the group fell silent. 

Ryuji didn't mind it so much. They hadn't really spent much time together over the last few years. He didn't know what to talk about with them. They had all moved on to be successful: Makoto was making headway as a police officer, Haru had opened a chain of cafés, Futaba did some kind of science research, Sumire was a successful gymnast, and Ann's modeling career had only grown. Yusuke was pretty successful as an artist, but he was shit with his money. Ryuji was just a delivery driver. Just a full time grunt worker trying to pay the bills.

Ren had been the only one to truly keep in touch. He was in their apartment about once a week to chat, drink beer, or crash on their couch. Ren came around with booze and snacks if Ryuji needed to vent about work. He'd watch the dog if Ryuji went to visit his mom or go on a date. Ren was there when Yusuke sold his first painting as an independent artist. He checked in on them if they got sick. He remembered their birthdays each year. 

From the back of the group, he heard Haru ask, "Why did his shadow say he was going to die?" Impulsively, Ryuji kicked the railing of the stairs. 

"I don't rightly know," Yusuke responded, frowning thoughtfully. 

"Let's keep going," Ryuji muttered, frustration appeased when everyone started up the stairs again.

They emerged a few floors later. This one looked similar to the first floor, but there was a fancy looking door at the end. After killing the shadows in the way with as many swings of his bat as Ryuji could muster, they stood before it. Sighing grumpily, Ryuji opened it when everyone looked from the door to him, in open askance. "Damn cowards," he grumbled. 

Blessedly, the room was empty. He had seen quite enough of Ren's skills in the bedroom for one day. Instead, there was a painting on an easel in the center of the room covered with a sheet. Ryuji looked to Yusuke, deferring to him. It probably wasn’t even a real painting, but he didn’t want to be the brave one this time, dammit.

Yusuke’s jaw clenched, and he strode over to the large covered canvas. He threw off the cover in one sweeping gesture. They weren’t prepared for the image on the canvas. 

Ryuji felt his rage from earlier that night filter out of his belly to be replaced by something cold and heavy. Something like guilt. 

Ren and Akechi clutched each other close in what must be the Leblanc bathroom. Ren’s shirt was undone and missing a few buttons. Akechi’s jacket and gloves were missing, his usually perfect hair in disarray. They had their hands fisted in each other’s shirts. They were staring at each other so heatedly, even Ryuji blushed a bit. Looking at this with everyone felt like watching a naughty movie scene with his mother. He looked to the side, confused. What did it mean?

“I-is this what he wants? Or is this what actually happened?” came Futaba’s mousy voice somewhere to his left.

“What actually happened! I must admit that I struggled keeping my hands to myself around him,” came Ren’s voice. His shadow stepped through them, taking advantage of their surprise to walk closer to the painting. Knocking back what remained in his glass, he stood close to it, blank eyes running over it carefully. 

The thieves edged closer together, prepared to defend themselves, except Haru. She squared her shoulders and marched over to the shadow. Makoto tried to call her back, but she either didn’t hear or didn’t listen. “Why him?” she asked, her voice quiet.

“Why not him?” Shadow Ren asked, keeping his eyes on the painting.

“Don’t be stupid! There’s a million reasons why not!” she shouted, anger overflowing and vibrating through every word. Ryuji thought he saw some tears on her face, too.

Shadow Ren turned to her, suddenly less jovial. His yellow eyes altogether less inviting than they were. “Ah, there it is,” he cooed. He grabbed Haru by the chin, wiping at her tears with his thumb. “Hard to understand isn’t it? Why him? Why would perfect Joker love that sorry son of a bitch who killed my father? Right?” he questioned, his words adding weight to the stone settling in Ryuji’s stomach. 

“You loved him?” Haru cried, but didn’t back down.

“Yes,” Shadow Ren answered. He shoved Haru back, uncaring eyes watching her hit the floor. He turned back to the painting, placing a gentle hand over Akechi’s face. “Get out,” he whispered. His shoulders hunched up in silk robe when none of them moved. He threw his empty glass at the wall, the shards of it flying everywhere. “Get out!” he shouted, turning back towards them, yellow eyes glowing angrily. Shadows popped up around them, filling the room and blocking the exit.

Time to leave! “Morgana!” Ryuji shouted as he ran over to pull Haru closer to the group. He saw the smallest of their group throw the smoking item to the ground, and they found themselves sprawled in the alley they had infiltrated from. The Goho-M had worked. Now to figure out whatever the hell just happened. “Let’s uh, just go back to my place, yea?” he said more than asked. He gave Haru a pointed look until she nodded. They shuffled back to his and Yusuke’s place, thankfully silent with their thoughts.

Ryuji let everyone in. Makoto got Haru and Futaba settled on the couch. Ann and Sumire busied themselves in the kitchen to fix up some food for everyone. It was in their original plan to meet back here, so the fridge was stocked with groceries already. Yusuke sat at the kotatsu, sketching with Morgana settled on his lap. 

Ryuji let himself out on the balcony for some air. He eyed the spent cigarette butts on the ground that Ren had forgotten to pick up. How many times had he been right here, smoking like a chimney and looking so goddam  _ sad _ ? Ryuji felt like punting himself into space for being so stupid. He should have seen it. Ren was the most torn up about Akechi’s passing. He was the one who fought for them to accept him after Dr. Maruki brought him back. Ryuji assumed that was just him being the leader, but now, he could see it was something else. Fuck, why did he have to be blind.

“Come and eat, Ryuji,” Ann said, delicately. 

He joined everyone in the living room, eating whatever was handed to him. Futaba didn’t eat more than a couple bites. Sumire ate enough to fill a sumo wrestler. Once everyone had eaten their fill, the food and dishes were cleared away. Now came the hard part.

Ann opened the floor. “Why did he never tell us?” she asked, looking at her nails, picking at them.

“I see why he would struggle with telling us,” Futaba murmured from under a mountain of blankets on the couch. She was still shivering.

“Why him?” Haru asked, again. 

Everyone fell silent.

“I don’t get it either,” muttered Makoto. 

“They never did anything that I could see,” Morgana said, his kitty ears down. He spent the most time with Ren back then, so he would know if anything went down at Leblanc while he was there.

Sumire tugged on her hair in thought. “I saw them flirting once. It was just the three of us in Dr. Maruki’s palace. They seemed really close. Even still, Akechi-san seemed…unhinged. Dangerous.”

“I wonder how they even got together. Did Akechi force him into it?” Ann asked before shaking her head. “No, his shadow seemed totally consenting. I can’t see Ren getting taken advantage of like that,” she said with a pained smile.

“I can’t see them together at all,” Futaba mumbled to her knees.

“I don’t think we can always explain why we love someone,” Yusuke posited, closing his sketchbook.

“But this doesn’t make any sense! He was a murderer!” Haru shouted.

Ryuji felt something snap. The weight he was carrying within seemed to triple. “This is why!” he shouted into his lap, carrying too much to even lift his head. He felt a bit cruel when Haru cringed back, but he didn’t care enough to stop. “This is exactly why he didn’t tell us. He knew us too well and knew we wouldn’t get it. You heard his shadow! He knew exactly what to say to rile you up. Why tell us in the first place if we’re just going to judge him?” He calmed enough by the end to speak in a level voice again. 

He sighed, feeling more guilt over hurting Haru’s feelings. She looked close to tears again. He knew that if Akechi had killed his mom, he would struggle to understand as well. Yet, he also knew Ren. “Ren is the kind of guy that got along with everyone, right? Like, he just got people. He understood ‘em and shit. Maybe, he and Akechi understood each other in a way that we couldn’t. Maybe, Akechi was there for him in a way that we couldn’t be, and regardless of his past, Ren accepted it. Because that’s just the kind of guy he is,” Ryuji gritted out, feeling his guilt lessen a bit as he thought about it. “I think he did his best to hide it because he knew it would hurt the group,” he said, just as it clicked into place.

“So now, he’s been carrying this sorrow all this time, alone,” Yusuke added.

Silence again.

Ryuji felt arms around him and looked up at the teary faced Haru. “You’re right. That is who he is,” she cried, breaking down in the next moment. She sobbed against him as he awkwardly tried to pat her back.

“I don’t agree with it, but I get it now, too,” Futaba warbled from under her blankets.

“So when do we infiltrate next?” Makoto asked, chin stern and raised up defiantly.

“What do our schedules look like?” Ann asked, wiping her cheeks and pulling out her phone.

Ryuji smiled a bit. He felt proud of them. Proud of them for trying to understand. Now, they just had to focus on stealing the treasure. 

* * *

How did he get here?

A cigarette butt was held in his limp fingers. His throbbing head was too heavy to lift, so he let it lie on the table as it pleased. His stomach roiled with an awful queasiness as if an upset octopus was pressing its tentacles through his organs and up his throat. He burped. Hopefully this place had a nearby bathroom. Or a sink. Or a trash can. 

Actually.  _ Where _ was here? 

Ren blinked blearily, finally cognizant of his surroundings. The room was unfamiliar. It was small. Sparsely furnished. Cactus in a happy fluorescent pot on the counter. Marked up calendar on the wall. Quiet TV somewhere showing reruns of an old drama. A messy bookcase stuffed with large textbooks and crumpled stacks of paper. With truly great effort, he rolled his face against the table to view the other side of the room. Instead, brown hair tickled his nose. Huh, that was weird. It smelled pleasant though, the hair.

The hair moved, seemingly roused by the nose nudges and cursory sniffs. A bespectacled face emerged from beneath the messy auburn mop. Ren blinked. The face blinked back. “Mornin’,” it muttered, alcohol breath triggering those incorrigible gut tentacles. 

“Good morning, Dr. Maruki,” Ren muttered back. He could taste the clingy booziness on his tongue. Oh shit, there it was. That set the gut monster going wild. Holding back the flood, Ren jolted upright and just managed to put his head over the little kitchen sink behind him to make a deposit of last night’s dinner. The sight and smell of his own vomit made him wretch again, harder than before. It exploded out of his mouth and his nose, burning as it came up. Fuuuuuck…

Rinsing it all down the drain and hoping the chunks did not clog his host’s plumbing, he wiped his watery eyes on his sleeve. The light caught on something on his hand. He stared down at his nails. His red nails. There were little gold details in the corners. It was kinda cute. When did that happen?

“Hey, doc.”

“Yea?”

“Is this your place?”

“Yea.”

“Did we go drinking last night?”

“Yea.”

“Did we do anything else?”

“Dunno.”

“Okay.”

“...”

“...”

“Breakfast?”

“Yea.”

Slumping back into his seat, Ren ordered takeout on his phone. Order made, he let his head flop back to its resting position. Neither man rose until the food arrived. Ren answered the door and Maruki mosied about the kitchen to get cups of water. They silently tucked into the food.

Once fed and watered, he finally felt more human. The monster in his stomach had calmed and withered, leaving him with only mild indigestion. He yawned and stretched. His back popped, but it was not enough to relieve the stiffness from sleeping at the cramped kitchen table. Getting truly vertical was a challenge, and he wobbled on his feet. He eyed his companion curiously.

“Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“No problem.”

“I’m gonna head out.”

“Okay. Be safe. Ren?”

Ren stopped, his hand on the front door. He turned gently to face the prone man at the table. “What is it?” he asked.

“Don’t give up.”

Ren’s jaw tightened, and his head throbbed horribly. He hummed affirmatively before leaving the older man’s apartment. He let the afternoon sun warm his face before making an unsteady trek to the train station. Maruki’s words rang out hollowly in his head the whole way home. What had they talked about last night? 

When he finally got home, he flopped onto his bed, fully clothed. He clumsily kicked off his shoes and pulled his legs up, throwing his arms around them. Today was a free day. He could afford a nap. With little effort he fell right asleep. It was an awful nap, full of uncomfortable things that had him waking up every twenty minutes. He gave up after a couple hours and felt less rested than before, somehow. 

Dragging himself outside his bedroom, he flopped onto the couch. His hand pulled his cigarettes out of his pocket and dug around for a lighter. Pulling one from his other pocket, he lit it up to ease the burdensome melancholy weighing on his shoulders like deadweight. He hated being sober.

Ever since he had run into Akechi’s ghost, he had done his absolute best to be as drunk as possible as often as possible. He kept himself just sober enough to work, but he filled all the rest of his time with booze. His recycle bin was full of glass bottles, and he cringed at the thought of his tab at his favorite bar. He had delegated all appointments to outside his apartment, which showed in the empty convenience store bentos and myriad drinking glasses littering his coffee table. With no one coming to his apartment, he had no need to keep it clean. He did not have the energy to bother. 

Time for a drink. He dug out the cheap whiskey hiding in the side table, thumbed off the lid, and took a deep drink straight from the bottle. The alcohol painfully burned his nose and throat on the way down. He shook his head with a shudder. A few more swigs, and he'd feel better. Just had to take off the edge.

Hm? Music? He looked to the side, frowning. That eerie glow was emanating from under his bedroom door. It was here in his apartment. Damn, that was new.

Fuck it, he decided. He wobbled to his feet, bottle still in hand. Opening the door, he noticed something different. There was an elevator next to the empty concierge desk. He hit the button. The doors opened, and he stepped inside. It was then he noticed something else. His clothes were still the same. He wasn't Joker right then. He was just Ren, in a rumpled suit with painted nails and bedhead. The angry octopus in his stomach writhed unpleasantly. What did it mean?

He hadn't pressed a button, but the elevator had closed and chosen a destination on its own. He watched the numbers atop the door go up before it stopped on the sixth floor. The doors opened onto an opulent hallway, vastly different from all the floors below. Was this the top floor?

The door he saw in his dreams was here. There at the end of the hallway, it stood waiting. He felt dread and some kind of weird acceptance fill him up and battle each other for dominance. This was scary, but he was fine with it. He felt a cold chill and drank from the bottle clutched in his jittery fingers to warm him up.

Maybe, he'd check the other rooms first. His unsteady feet wobbled dangerously as he shuffled to the closest room. He opened the door and stared into a matching pair of empty gray eyes.

* * *

A phone rang on the countertop. Ryuji hit his head as he jerked in surprise. Scratching his hand through his hair, he emerged from under the kitchen sink with a wrench in hand. He fumbled for his phone to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Sakamoto-kun, how are you? It's Dr. Maruki. Do you have a minute?"

"Dr. Maruki? Yea, wassup?"

"Do you think you can check in on Amamiya-kun today? We went out last night, but he didn't seem well. He's not answering his phone, I'm just a bit worried."

Ryuji dropped the wrench and ran into Yusuke's room. The artist stared at him with bewilderment. "Yea, we'll head right over. Bye!" He answered, ending the call and ignoring the rest of whatever the man was saying. "Let's go check on Ren," he said to Yusuke who nodded and followed him to the door. 

They pulled on their shoes, locked the door behind them, and ran to the station. The team was supposed to gather for infiltration in a couple hours, but they may have to change that plan. He had a bad feeling about this. 

He bounced his leg and tapped his fingers the whole train ride, feeling as antsy as he did during his job interview. Scratch that. He felt this nervous when they faked Joker's death. He sprinted out of the doors as they opened, dodging people as best he could.

When he reached the apartment in question, he doubled over, panting. Yusuke followed a few minutes later, out of breath and frazzled. They simultaneously noticed the magenta light coming from under the door. "Dammit!" Ryuji cursed. 

"I'm gonna kick it in. Call the others!" He announced, doing just as he said. Using his good leg, he gave the door a solid kick. It rattled in its frame, but did not open. He heard Yusuke speaking hurriedly on the phone next to him. He backed up a few steps before charging in with his shoulder, bursting through the door.

The pair ran in, checking every room. "Ren?" Ryuji called, checking the balcony. Dammit, where was he?

"He's not here." Yusuke replied. Ryuji turned and saw the artist standing in the bedroom doorway. He moved closer to peer inside, noting that the light seemed to come from that room. He looked around Yusuke and cursed again. The door to the palace was there, swung wide open. "He's in there," came Yusuke's unhelpful clarification.

"Even I know that, stupid! Are the others on the way?" He asked.

"Yes. Makoto is calling out of work, and Futaba is in a taxi on her way. Haru is picking up Sumire and Ann as she has her own car," he answered, checking the text messages on his phone.

All they could do was shut up and wait.

Once everyone had piled into Ren’s messy apartment, they ran through the door to look for Ren. They were making their way down the first floor hallway, when they heard an elevator chime. Ryuji turned first, and saw the elevator doors open. “What’s that? Was that there before?” he asked, jogging back to check it out. The other trotted behind him.

He came around the empty concierge desk and stumbled over himself as he came to an abrupt stop. “Ren!?” he exclaimed. Fuck, this was bad. The others were still a bit away, but they hurried over at his shout.

He ran into the elevator and delicately turned the crumpled man over. Ren was bleeding from the head. His body was covered in bruises, especially on his neck and torso. His shirt was covered in blood, and it reeked of booze. He blearily opened his eyes, but they slid closed shortly after. “He’s alive!” Ryuji shouted, somewhat relieved. He pulled some bandages out of his med kit, the same one Makoto had given to each of them, and pressed them to the head wound to stop the bleeding. What the fuck happened?


	6. Promissory Note

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit different than all the others. I had a lot of fun writing this one, so I hope you enjoy it! I may have been drunk on wine while writing most of this. I blame the pinot grigio for any and all mistakes.

_Ren,_

_I’ve been thinking of you lately. Actually, I think of you more than I care to admit. The distraction you provide has been a welcome intrusion. Thoughts of our time in Mementos are an invited temptation when I feel alone. My body remembers yours in a way I have never felt before having met you, before having been with you. Amidst these thoughts, I have discovered that I do not mind your company. Dare I say that I enjoy our time together?_

_Spending time with others has always been a carefully calculated experience on my part, merely a pantomime of true friendship and closeness. I think you know that. Our initial meeting was unlike any I have had before. When we encountered each other after that, I struggled to understand you. Truthfully, your insistence on preferring my true self felt fake, forced. My real face is not fit for public consumption. I think you know that, too; furthermore, I am beginning to believe you._

* * *

“Just don’t slow us down, Crow.”

“I will not allow that to happen.”

“Okay, it’s time we head inside.”

Akechi watched the phantom thieves sneak further inside. God, he hated them. Every ounce of them and their ridiculous, soft-hearted crusade. Ah well, he still had a part to play that he needed to see through. Just a few remaining steps until his revenge would be complete. He just needed to read his lines and dance for the camera a little while longer. He pulled his glove uncomfortably tighter before making a move to follow.

Except, a hand grabbed his wrist. He looked down at the offending red glove imprisoning him with a poorly veiled grimace. “Now, now, Joker. You know how this is supposed to go,” he muttered quietly, glancing furtively at the rest of the team ahead. Luckily, they were occupied with scoping out the area and not paying attention to their absentee leader. 

Joker hummed disapprovingly from behind him. His hand tugged him around, and he resisted the urge to snarl. If this were anywhere else, he wouldn’t mind, but right now, he wanted to burn the stupid boy’s hand off his arm. He kept his face neutral as Joker’s eyes roved over his costume. It made his skin crawl. Joker circled around him like the hideous vulture that he was. Reappearing in his line of sight, he couldn’t resist raising a questioning eyebrow at the other’s theatrics. Joker had assumed a contemplative face, his hand under chin in thought. When he caught eyes with Akechi, he had the audacity to frown. “I don’t like it,” he surmised.

“What?” Akechi bit out between clenched teeth.

Joker flapped a hand dismissively and sighed, already walking away. “It’s not really you, you know?” he smirked over his shoulder. "You know what I prefer," he muttered under his breath, purposefully loud enough for Akechi to hear. He even threw a saucy wink, the cretin.

Akechi wanted to shoot him. And kiss him. But mainly he wanted to shoot him. Smoothing his hair carefully, he pushed away all thoughts of Joker kneeling before him, begging. He couldn't afford the temptation to distract him while he was doing his best acting in the most successful role of his life. That being the facade of the demure detective prince. He'd just lock those thoughts away until they were safely alone.

Akechi followed Joker into the palace, blithe smile glued in place perfectly. His audience awaited. Time to put on a show. 

He did well. When joining in the conversation, he would ask just enough questions to feign ignorance and provide just enough advice on the puzzles to subtly keep them on track. A joke here. A smile just there. A dash of charm sprinkled over everything. 

Everything went perfect. At least, it did when he ignored the melodrama that was his lover. His overly elegant movements as he traipsed around the palace like a black swathed trapeze artist. Hidden biceps curling when he slashed at a shadow. Sly smirks as he ripped off masks with beautiful violence. Negotiating with such grace and poise as if to sweep the shadows off their feet. The sins of jealousy and lust writhed within Akechi's belly every time. 

Something else mingled in his bowels. It traveled up from his gut and weighed down on his shoulders, separate from any emotion he knew how to name. The unfamiliar weight of guilt settled into his shoulders and neck during the infiltration. Here was this beautiful creature in the prime of its life being led to slaughter. Such a shame. 

* * *

_Have you ever considered my motivations? Do you think of such things? In all the hours we have whittled away together, have you garnered any truth from the little things that I let slip? I wonder sometimes if you find joy merely in our pleasurable physicality or if you actually enjoy being with me. I wonder if you like all of the ugliest things about me. Sadly, we have no more time to answer these questions._

_Here is what I do know. One: you claim to love my true self, and I am inclined to believe you. Two: you know what will happen when we steal Niijima-san’s heart, yet you do not fear it. Three: you have not tried to stop or dissuade me from my chosen path. From these points, I only have one conclusion. You are a fool. Maybe, you have some ostentatious plan as is your wont, but I still find you foolish. Foolish and perfect._

* * *

A few days passed in this fashion. They had infiltrated twice into Niijima’s palace already. Even Akechi had to begrudge them their skill. They were rough and unpolished, to be sure, but they worked hard at achieving their goals. They were on track to finish the palace by the deadline in just a few days. All that remained was to send the calling card and steal the treasure. Admirable, one might say. Not that Akechi would. 

Heading back from the metaverse, Akechi hung back to match pace with Ren who brought up the rear. Morgana had snuggled up into his bag, so he would not see when Akechi pressed a slip of paper into Ren’s palm. With little fanfare, the thieves separated for the night, each one heading home. Akechi hopped on the train that would take him to his apartment.

It was sentimental, he knew. This wasn't a part of his plan, but the more time he spent with the raven haired boy, the more he wanted him. He craved so much more than the sex, not that he would ever admit it to the other. Not now, so close to his execution. He wasn’t going to falter, no matter how true it was that he had a physical need for those secret endearing smiles that Ren would give without knowing. 

He entered his small, silent apartment. Keys went in the tray with an echoing clink, and his lonesome briefcase got deposited near his bed. Puttering about the empty space, he hung up his coat, being careful with the shoulders and collar, before placing his tie and gloves on the hanger. He washed his face, changed into loungewear, and threw his laundry into the austere washing machine in the bathroom. 

The doorbell rang. 

Akechi felt...warm? Nervous? Shaking his head, he opened the door for his guest. 

Ren stood there, with a plastic bag clutched in his hand. Some familiar takeout boxes were inside of it. He had that usual roguish grin in place, and Akechi hated how smug he looked. He wanted to steal it off his face. He wanted to hurt him.

Opening the door wider, he said, "Come in." He moved to sit at the low table in the back of his tiny apartment squished between his tv and his futon. There was just enough room on the floor for one person on either side of the table, though this would be the first time he had ever had someone sit across from him. He shoved that thought out of his head. 

Ren thanked him, and he closed the door after himself. After taking his shoes off, he walked over to sit opposite Akechi and pulled all the food out of the bag. “I had some extra money, so I splurged a bit,” he smiled as he opened the boxes, revealing elegant sushi within. He had even taken the care to order Akechi’s favorites. The seasonal fish taunted him from within the paper box, and he committed to eat those pieces first. 

Akechi played host and prepared some tea while Ren finished unboxing all the food. They settled in across from each other and ate their meal quietly. The two boys exchanged meaningless small talk until the last bite was finished. Ren graciously cleared the trash and washed their cups. The bubble of imposed normality burst when he returned. 

He moved the small table out of the way and pulled Akechi by the wrist to the futon. Gentle hands guided him to lie down. He allowed it. The lanky boy straddled his hips, and those hands went from his wrists, up his arms, over his shoulders, across his neck, and onto his cold cheeks. The fingertips seemed to take their time on their journey to feel over the texture of his skin. Ren’s dark eyes moved from his own red gaze to focus on his lips. A thumb slid across his bottom lip, back and forth. 

What was he doing?

Ren leaned down and ever so softly pressed their lips together. The gentle press was followed by a deeper kiss wherein he felt himself inhaling in rhythm with Ren. The influx of air filled him up with something tingly and unfamiliar. He felt breathless when they parted. Before he could recover or even think, Ren’s lips wandered lower and pressed against his cheek, his chin, his throat. Every touch was delicate and slow and purposeful. 

This wasn’t normal.

Akechi couldn’t focus as the warmth built in his chest, uncomfortable and unknown emotions coming to the fore. Ren’s tongue came out to play and wetly left trails along his neck. It swirled on the base of his throat, near his collarbone. The ticklish pleasure of the sensation had him making a new noise he did not know he was capable of creating. The lips came back to kiss him, now joined in duet with the playful tongue making sweet swirls over his own.

They never did it like this.

Ren’s fingers teased at the hem of his shirt before slipping under it to run over his abdomen and spread out flat over his side to hold him. The skinny fingers him lightly, not an ounce of the usual roughness or violence they usually exhibited when touching him this intimately. They felt unfamiliar in their gentleness, but Akechi would not deny that he enjoyed them. He wanted them to touch him more.

Why did this feel so good?

His beast had been swapped with some gentle creature who was doing his utmost to kill Akechi with kindness. That’s what it was. There was a newness to the sensation that heightened every touch he received from the raven haired boy. While it was frightening uncharted territory, he could not resist it. Somewhere deep down, he had longed for Ren to touch him like this. He had dreamed of it once but did his best to forget it because he knew it would never happen. Yet, here it was.

Ren’s greedy hands pulled at his shirt and helped him tug it over his head. After removing his own shirt, he looked down at Akechi with lidded, dark eyes focused on him so intently that the detective reached up to pull him down in a kiss that was all tongue and moans. The hands wandered again, one going over his chest to tease a nipple and the other sliding down his side to his hip and back up again. They broke for air, and Ren sat back on his hips with his hands on Akechi’s stomach for balance. Still breathless, Ren smirked, the look making something hot unfurl and bloom in the detective’s chest. 

Those pesky hands wandered some more and rubbed over his growing arousal slowly, feeling out the shape of it through the fabric of his pants. His hips moved into the touch, asking for more. He was rewarded when Ren moved off him to pull down his pants, and the hands were replaced with a wet mouth. Akechi fisted his hand in Ren’s hair as he felt the tongue swipe over the head and used his leverage to guide that mouth down and back up the length of his cock in a slow, steady pace. A loud groan rattled out of his throat. He let go to fist his hands in the blankets as Ren continued in that agonizing slow pace, giving the head special care whenever he bobbed back up.

The wet, smacking noises of Ren’s mouth had him groaning in response, feeling everything because of the achingly slow cadence of the pleasure. It built up quickly within him. Before he could warn his lover, he came just as Ren had gone down. He felt Ren push forward around the twitching in his mouth, going down all the way to shove his nose in Akechi’s pubic hair, swallowing with a satisfied hum. He came all the way up with a popping noise afterward. What an attractive bastard.

Still panting, Akechi lolled his head over, feeling his body melt into the futon with satisfaction. He felt blissful? That felt like the right word. What an odd feeling. It was warm and wholesome. It filled him up and stole all the tension that lived in his shoulders and neck. He moaned with the sensation.

He jumped a bit when Ren grabbed him again, one hand on the shaft and the other massaging his balls. Despite Ren’s earlier efforts, youthful vigor had granted him a double boner tonight. And judging by Ren’s conniving grin, the other boy planned to make full use of it. No rest for the wicked, indeed.

He watched as Ren stopped touching him to prepare himself. He licked his own fingers and reached back to insert his fingers and stretch out his hole. The lustful moan he gave had Akechi twitching in anticipation. He hadn’t even noticed Ren undress, but he enjoyed the view of bare skin and long limbs. Next thing he knew, Ren was mounting him, face scrunched up as he took the full length in at once.

Akechi hissed through his teeth. The tightness was divine. When Ren began to move, slapping his hips down slowly at first then in an increasing rhythm, Akechi’s mouth opened in pleasure. He watched Ren’s face as he rode on, memorizing all the features of his passionate expressions. The shape of his mouth when he gasped. The way he shook his head to get his sweaty hair out of his eyes. The arc of his neck when he would throw his head back to moan. The glint off his teeth when he’d bite his lip.

Ren bent down to kiss him, tongue wild and lips messy in the heat of the moment. Akechi kept a mental list of the new kisses he was learning about tonight. They had only kissed once, that time in Mementos. He never knew how good it felt to kiss like this. He wondered how many more there were to experience. He decided to think about it later and enjoy the here and now.

Ren broke away and rose up on his arms to get a better angle with his hips. Akechi pulled his hips down and thrusted up to deepen the sensation for his lover. The response was perfect. Ren’s eyes closed, and he bucked faster into each of Akechi thrusts. “Fuck,” he groaned out, low and deep. Akechi grabbed at Ren’s cock to pump it in time with his hips. With just a few strokes, Ren came all over Akechi’s hand and chest. He tightened so much that Akechi finished for the second time shortly after.

Ren kissed him again. It was soft and quick, his short pants puffing on Akechi’s cheeks. He dismounted and cuddled close, throwing his arms around the detective. He was hot and sweaty, but Akechi couldn’t bring himself to care. He savored the feeling. His own arms circled the other’s back, holding on tight.

All of a sudden, he felt ashamed. It hit him out of nowhere, out of place and wholly unwanted. He’d never have this again. His own selfish justice made any more of this impossible. This warm feeling he was experiencing was fleeting, just as impermanent as snow. It was due to melt eventually. He sighed through his nose and pulled Ren closer.

A few minutes of silence.

Nestled in the crook of his neck, Ren asked, “What would you do if things didn’t go as planned?” 

Akechi stiffened in surprise. “How do you mean?”

Ren extracted himself from his arms to lie next to Akechi. They both stared at the ceiling. “What if you didn’t achieve your goal? What would you do?” he questioned.

He thought for a minute. There would only be one reason he did not achieve his goal. “I’d die.”

Ren looked at him, eyes searching his face. Akechi turned to look and could not place the emotion in his expression. “How do you want to go?”

“I’d want you to be the one to end me,” he answered before he could stop himself.

Ren’s eyes widened. He turned to look at the ceiling. He frowned in thought and threaded his fingers through Akechi’s, their hands nestled between them. “I’ll do it,” he whispered.

Akechi bit his cheek. He too turned to look at the ceiling. “I’m glad.”

Ren clenched his hand harder. “I want that too. If it all goes up in smoke, I’d want you to be the one to kill me.” Akechi could feel him shiver next to him.

“I’ll do it,” he whispered back.

“Good,” came the reply.

Akechi rolled to his side and tentatively reached over to grab Ren’s cheek. Looking into those dark eyes made him feel so guilty now. Their lips met gently. He breathed in deep, the kiss filling him just as much as their first one of the evening. Pulling away, he rubbed a thumb over Ren’s cheek and said, “Goodnight, Ren.”

The other boy awarded him a small smile. “Goodnight, Goro.” Ren pulled the blankets over them and settled down to sleep. He was out in five minutes flat. His soft snores twisted an ugly knot in Akechi’s innards. He envied how peaceful the other boy looked.

Akechi stayed awake. Propping himself up on his elbows, he took in the sight of Ren sleeping next to him. So warm. So comfortable. So trusting. So _foolish_. Something wet slid down his cheek. Wiping a hand over his face, he eyed the wetness there with disdain. The proof of his weakness stared back at him in defiance. With a silent snarl, he carefully rolled out of bed. 

The tears didn’t stop. He couldn’t hold them back. He flushed, ashamed. The guilt he had discovered a few days prior returned full force, heavy enough to crush him. He cried quietly, gut twisting and chest tightening painfully. His head hurt from the pressure of his sinuses filling and from the strain of his leaking tears. He dropped his head in his hands and let them flow. 

Stopping Shido was all that mattered. Love had no place in his schemes. He had worked so hard for so long that he would never abandon his goal for one boy. It would be nice. He could picture a thousand nights just as sweet as this, but it was not enough to change his mind. Their relationship mattered little in the context of the full picture. Ren gave him something he had never had, but it was not as important as his freedom. His freedom from Shido mattered above all things. He would finally have real power and acknowledgement at the end of this. After years of silent torture, he would be the master of his own fate once he ended his father’s life. 

There was no other choice. He would savor tonight, and in the morning, it would be back to business as usual. He just needed tonight to get it together. Tonight, he would let himself be another fool in love. Tomorrow, he will be back to normal. A few days after that, he will kill Ren with the revolver he loves so much. 

He pulled an envelope from his briefcase and slipped it into the pocket of Ren’s coat lying on the floor. 

* * *

_I’ll never forget your kindness or your frivolity. While I am sure we have both grown from our time together, I concede that I have made the lion’s share of progress. For this, I am grateful. You have shown me that I am capable of softer emotions. They felt unobtainable. You have proved me wrong._

_We both know that I am too proud to say these types of things aloud, so this letter will have to do. Thank you, Ren. Thank you for having the courage to love someone as worthless as me. I trust you know what to do with this letter_ _after you read it._

_Respectfully yours,_

_C_

* * *

Just as planned, Ren got caught trying to escape Sae’s palace. He was shipped to the underground interrogation room to be beaten and forced to sign a confession. His friends would be too weak without a leader to mount a worthwhile rescue attempt. He would be broken and alone down there, waiting for judgement. Akechi would grant him that judgment.

Taking the elevator down, Akechi thought of the gun hiding in the waistband of his trousers. It was dangerous, bringing in such a unique gun that could be traced. The ballistics wouldn’t match, but this plot was so rigged that nothing could stop it now. The police force was so tightly wrapped around Shido’s pinky that they didn’t even know he was manipulating them. He didn’t care anyway. Shido would be dead before it could come back to him. If totally necessary, he could hide the gun in the metaverse, and no one could prove it was him. 

His feet carried him to the door where he talked the guard into going with him. Once inside, he stole the guard’s gun, slapped a silencer on it, and shot him. He pulled the other gun from his waistband and relished the shocked expression on Ren’s face. “I remembered to bring what you wanted. You should feel lucky that I am honoring your last request. Too bad this is where your justice ends. I was just starting to like you.”

**BANG.**

Ren’s head blew back with the force of the shot. Blood poured from his head, down his neck, and soaked into his shirt. 

After removing the silencer, Akechi positioned the stolen gun to make it look like a suicide. He stuffed the other gun back into his waistband. Still high on the adrenalin, he didn’t feel anything at the sight of his lover’s corpse. He felt nothing even as he walked back to the elevator and reported the success to Shido. 

He didn’t feel anything until he was safely tucked away in his apartment. Once behind the closed door, he fell onto the futon. It still smelled faintly of Ren. He pulled out the gun and stared at it. Tears blurred his vision. 

Tomorrow, it will be back to business as usual, he swore. Tonight, he would mourn.


End file.
